


Further Than Gone

by scruffydeanwinchester



Series: Further Than Gone [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance, Smut, not wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffydeanwinchester/pseuds/scruffydeanwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Dean Winchester, Captain of the East Texas University Hunters hockey team, falls in love with newcomer to the baseball team, Sam Remington.</p>
<p>This work was previously titled: A Taste of Honey</p>
<p> </p>
<p>written by: <a href="http://scruffydeanwinchester.tumblr.com">scruffydeanwinchester</a><br/>artwork by: <a href="http://moosetasticsam.tumblr.com">moosetasticsam</a></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/><a href="http://moosetasticsam.tumblr.com"></a>
    <br/><img/><br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Cap, what do you think of the new kid?”

  
Dean Winchester is sitting in the stands, surrounded on all sides by members of his hockey team and the football team. Most of the guys have their girlfriends snuggled against their sides. Dean is flanked by his best friend, and Alternate Captain, Castiel Novak, and his Left Wing, Gabriel Praton.

  
“Kid’s built like a freakin’ lumberjack. Let’s wait and see how he hits though,” Dean responds to Gabe, watching the newest member of the baseball team, Sam Remington, as he stands outside the dugout, taking practice swings with a weighted bat. He’s next up, depending on whether Adam Milligan can get on base.

  
“I heard Coach Henrikson scouted him from some honky tonk college in Kansas,” Cas tells Dean, but Dean isn’t paying attention.

  
Dean listens but doesn’t watch as Adam connects with the second pitch and drops the ball into right field. It bounces once and is caught by the outfielder, but Adam makes it to first base before the fielder can make the play. Dean can’t seem to take his eyes away from the new guy. He’s not sure if it’s the guy’s tanned and muscular arms, his toned legs, or the way his ass looks in those tight baseball pants, but something has piqued his interest.

  
Sam tosses his baseball cap into the dugout and jogs over to home plate, pushing a hand through his shaggy brown hair to keep it out of his eyes. He pulls on his batting helmet and cracks his neck side to side. Rolling his shoulders, he squares up to the plate and lifts the bat, preparing to swing. The pitcher from the other team eyes him as he winds up. Sam doesn’t swing at the first throw, waiting for the right moment to take his swing. The first pitch is determined a ball by the umpire. Even up in the stands Dean can see the flash of a grin across Sam’s face.

  
Sam swings at the third pitch, sending the ball flying into the air, headed right through center field. Sam takes off running the bases as the crowd jumps to its feet. His long legs almost blur as Sam streaks around first base and heads for second, starting to gain on Adam, who's rounding ahead of him. It becomes clear to the crowd that he doesn’t need to hurry; the ball is sailing high over the back fence of the field as he runs through second base. He begins to slow as he comes up to third base, watching the third base coach as he gestures to slow down. A grin breaks across his face as he realizes he’s hit a home run, and he jogs towards home plate. The rest of the team runs out of the dugout to congratulate him.

  
“Great way to join the team!” Cas shouts to Dean over the roaring crowd. The hockey team is whooping and pumping their fists. They start chanting and stomping their feet, the whole crowd joining in.

  
“HUNTERS! HUNTERS! HUNTERS!” the crowd chants. The guys from the football and hockey teams begin cocking pretend shotguns, and blasting them at the opposing team’s bleachers. The coaches for both teams are sitting lower down in the stands, and they all turn and glare over their shoulders at the pretend warfare. Coach Singer meets Dean’s eyes and runs a thumb across his throat, his usual ‘knock it off or else’ gesture. Dean usually sees it after he and Cas have been goofing off on the ice during a game. Being the team Captain, Dean has to set a good example though. He shouts over the crowd at his team mates to shut up. Slowly they listen and revert to clapping and chanting. The Captain of the football team, Benny Lafitte, nods at Dean and begins yelling at his team to stop as well.

  
The crowd settles down as the team heads back into the dugout, slapping Sam’s back and ass as they pass him by. Sam picks up his bat and follows the group as another player heads up to bat. The poor guy strikes out, ending the game. But it doesn’t matter; the East Texas Hunters have beaten the Arizona State Demons by 2 runs, thanks to Sam.

 

 

After the game, the guys head back to Cas and Dean’s apartment. They sprawl over the furniture, beers in hand. Cas boots up the video game console and is soon killing zombies alongside Benny. Gabriel kicks his feet up onto the coffee table.

  
“Dean, you have to come tonight. It’s gonna be nuts. You know the Rugby guys always throw a good party,” Gabriel says while texting furiously on his phone. “Plus, the whole baseball team is going. Celebrating that new guy’s home run.”

  
Dean glances over at him at the mention of Sam Remington. Gabriel is unaware of the change, but Dean is suddenly very interested in going to the Rugby House tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

       Well this was a bad idea, Dean thinks to himself, sitting on one of the somewhat sticky leather couches scattered around the main floor of the frat house. He’s been there less than an hour and he’s already wanting to call it quits and go back to his apartment. Cas and Gabe disappeared the minute they walked in, both going to meet up with their girlfriends.

       Dean downs the rest of the warm beer in his Solo cup, grimacing at the taste of it. Sighing, he gets up and makes his way through the crowded rooms to find one of the kegs. There’s a few girls lined up in front of him, so he waits, subconsciously twisting the bezel on his watch. Looking around the room he sees a few guys from his team, a few of them dancing with their girlfriends, one of them doing a bit more kissing than dancing. He rolls his eyes and turns back to the keg, where the girls have finished filling their cups and wandered off.

       He bends down to pick up the nozzle and pumps the handle a few times to build pressure in the keg.  Concentrating on his cup, he presses the nozzle and tips his hand to avoid the foam building. He fills his drink and turns to head back to his spot on the couch when he runs straight into another guy.

       “Shit, sorry man,” the guy says, narrowly avoiding the beer that sloshes out of Dean’s cup.

       Dean looks up, and up, into the big, hazel eyes of the new starting baseball player.

       “No worries, it missed me,” Dean tells him, rubbing a hand down the front of his plaid shirt to check for wetness. “No penalty.”

       “Alright cool. You’re Dean, right? Captain of the hockey team?” Sam asks, sticking his hand out towards Dean’s stomach. “I’m Sam. Remington.”

       “Yeah, I know who you are,” Dean replies with a grin, shaking his hand. “I think everyone does after that hit today.”

       “Right, yeah.” Sam blushes, ducking his head slightly and running his hand through his hair. Dean can’t help but laugh, causing Sam to look up from under his shaggy bangs.  Sam smiles, lifting his head slightly to look into Dean’s green eyes.  “Well I heard you’re the legacy around here, Dean Winchester. Captain for three years now, undefeated the last two seasons. The orientation girl had a whole speech about you.”

       “Well I’ve got a great team; we work well together.” Dean takes a swig of his beer as Sam tosses back the last of his. Dean steps to the side as Sam starts filling his own cup. Dean can’t help but notice the way the sleeves of Sam’s purple polo strain against his bulging biceps. Or the way his jeans fit his ass perfectly as he bends over the keg. As Sam stands and turns toward him, Dean quickly looks away, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

       “How are you liking East Texas so far?” Dean asks, both boys walking away from the keg towards a less-crowded corner of the room.

       “It’s a lot to take in. I was going to Ottawa, in Kansas. My dad teaches there, and it’s a really good school, but I got a great offer from Coach to come here and play. I couldn’t pass it up,” Sam adds, sticking his free hand in his pocket and taking another gulp of beer.

       “Well I’m glad you didn’t,” Dean tells him. Sam looks over at him curiously, so he quickly adds, “Our baseball team could use a good hitter.”

       Dean curses himself internally, his face starting to feel hot and his palms getting clammy.

       “Thanks, man. Hopefully I can be an asset to the team,” Sam says in response, his blush deepening. “It’s getting hot in here; you want to go out back for a minute?”

       “Absolutely,” Dean tells him. Shouting over the pounding music and the cheap beer is starting to give him a headache. And he really wants to continue this conversation. He leads the way to the back porch of the frat, which is also crowded with drunken party-goers. They hop down the back steps and cross the yard to a couple of beat up lawn chairs next to an empty fire pit.

“So you got a girlfriend?” Sam asks, picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans. Dean looks over at Sam, a smile starting to spread across his face.

       “No I don’t. No boyfriend either,” Dean adds, watching to gauge Sam’s reaction.

Sam’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting Dean’s. Sam smiles, and Dean tries to read the expression. His friends all know, but it’s not common knowledge around campus that Dean skates for the other team.

Sam opens his mouth to say something when —

       “YO DEAN!!!” It’s Cas, who is crossing the deck with a sloppy grin on his face. He half-stumbles, half-runs towards Sam and Dean. “Dude, I was looking for you. Where have you been?”

       “Hey to you too, Cas. This is Sam Remington, the new guy on the baseball team,” Dean tells Cas, gesturing to Sam with his cup. Sam leans over Dean to shake hands with Cas. “This is Cas, he plays right-wing, and he’s the Alternate Captain.”

       “Hey Sam, nice to meet you,” Cas blurts out in a slurred rush. “Sorry Dean, I was looking for you because Gabe is  passed out upstairs and Benny went home with what’s-her-name, and I need help getting him out of here.”

       “Shit,” Dean groans, downing the rest of his beer and pushing himself up out of the lawn chair. “Sorry Sam, gotta go. Duty calls and all that. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

       “Yeah, for sure. See ya.” Sam and Dean shake hands and Dean heads toward the house with Cas in tow, wishing he had more time to hang out with Sam. He slogs up the stairs, cursing his drunk left-wing and his captain’s duty to keep the team in line.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

It’s been two full weeks of classes, and while Dean has been unnaturally busy with homework, practice, and 18 credit hours, he still can’t get his mind off of Sam. And that smile that could have meant so much.  If only Cas hadn’t interrupted and Sam had gotten out what he was about to say.

Dean shakes his head, hoisting his backpack farther up onto his shoulder. Halfway between ECON430 and IB498, he stops at a coffee vendor and stands at the back of the long line of students.

“We’ve got to stop meeting in drink lines,” a voice says behind him.

Dean turns to see Sam grinning at him. His shaggy brown hair hangs down almost into his eyes. In the sunlight Dean can see that Sam’s eyes are an unbelievable mix of green, blue, and gold. The gold around his pupil reminds Dean of a sunflower.

       Dean realizes he hasn’t said anything yet; that he’s just been staring into Sam’s eyes for what feels like an awkward amount of time. His cheeks warm and he glances down.

“Hey, yeah, yes we do,” Dean replies. The line moves forward and he takes a step sideways, Sam following. “Are you between classes?”

“No, actually, I’m done for the day. My last class ends at 3 on Thursdays. You?”

       “Unfortunately I’ve got a two hour International Business lecture to sit through, hence the coffee,” Dean tells him, scooting forward another 2 feet in line. Sam grins, his cheeks dipping into dimples, and he steps forward as well, closing the already small gap between them. Dean turns and orders his coffee from the barista. He can feel his elbow brushing against the front of Sam’s t-shirt.

               “And whatever he’s having,” he adds, thumbing over his shoulder at Sam.

               “No, no man, I can’t let you-,” Sam says, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

               “Don’t worry about it,” Dean interrupts him, stopping his movement with a hand on his arm. “I’ll let you make it up to me tonight. Beers at Lucky’s?”

               Sam smiles, pushing his wallet back down into his pocket and nodding.

               “Yeah I guess I could live with that. Meet you there at 9?”

               “Awesome.”

 

 

 

               “Meeting someone?” the bartender asks Dean as she pulls another beer from the tap. She’s blonde, busty, and beautiful; everything Dean isn’t looking for.

               “Yeah,” Dean tells her, glancing up at her briefly before turning back to his drink. The seat he picked at the bar has a perfect peripheral view of the door. Every time it opens, Dean’s heart rate picks up slightly, before dropping again when whoever comes through it isn’t Sam.

               Ten minutes past 9, Dean downs the last of his beer and pulls out his wallet.

               “Been a long time since I’ve been stood up,” he tells the bartender as she gives him a sad smile and takes his glass.

               “You’re not leaving, are you?” Sam asks, coming up next to Dean. “I’m sorry I’m late, my car wouldn’t start. Don’t leave.”

               Once again, Sam is standing so close that Dean can count the eyelashes framing his gorgeous eyes. He looks genuinely upset, Dean notices.

               “Uh, yeah dude, no worries,” Dean says, pocketing his wallet. Sam grins, sliding onto the barstool next to his, his knee brushing the length of Dean’s thigh as he sits. A jolt of energy shoots up Dean’s leg, and he jumps a little. Sam gestures to the bartender for two beers.

               “I would have called, but you never gave me your number,” Sam adds, his lip twitching into a smirk as he turns on the stool to face Dean.

              Dean throws his head back laughing. He twists the barstool around, facing out into the bar, and leans back, his elbows coming to rest on the counter behind him. Sam faces him completely, his long lanky legs, bent at the knee, are on either side of Dean’s barstool, his left thigh just below Dean’s. The bartender sets two beers on the counter, and Sam hands one to Dean. They clink their glasses together, and Dean starts to take a drink.

               “So you’re gay, right?”

               Dean sputters into his drink. Sam laughs and pats Dean on the back as he chokes. When Dean finally regains his breathing, he looks up at Sam quizzically.

               “Hey, I just want to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree,” Sam tells him before taking a sip of his beer.

               “Yeah, man, I’m gay,” Dean replies, chuckling.

“Good,” Sam says, and when Dean looks at him, he can tell that Sam means it.

               “You play pool?” Dean asks, nodding his head towards an empty pool table in the back corner of the bar.

               “Ah, no. I mean, I’ve actually never played,” Sam tells him, grimacing in a way that makes his nose scrunch up and makes Dean’s palms sweat.

               “Come on, I’ll teach you,” Dean says, grabbing his beer and standing from the barstool. Sam follows, and they make their way to the table. Dean fishes a dollar bill from his wallet and makes change in the machine on the wall. He feeds the table and puts the balls inside the triangle.

               “You can break,” he tells Sam, winking. Pulling a stick from the rack, he chalks it and hands it to Sam, who holds it in front of him and looks at it curiously.

               “Uh, you’re gonna have to help me out,” Sam says, looking over at Dean. Grinning, Dean walks around the corner of the table and stands next to him.

               “Okay, let me see,” he takes the cue stick from Sam and bends over, showing Sam how to hold it. “Hold it like this.”

               He hands the cue back to Sam and watches in admiration as Sam bends over the table. Coming up behind Sam, he stands behind him, and reaches for Sam’s hand. He hopes his palms aren’t too sweaty as he rests his hand on the back of Sam’s, moving Sam’s fingers to the proper position for holding the cue steady. His other arm snakes around behind Sam’s back and Dean lightly grips the back of Sam’s bicep.

               “Your hand goes like this. Use this arm, it’s called your back arm, to strike the ball. Not too hard, but not too soft. Gentle, but show it who’s boss,” he says softly in Sam’s ear.

                Dean feels rather than hears Sam laugh underneath him, his spine brushing Dean’s chest with each breath.

       He steps back to let Sam take the shot. Sam breaks the set with power, and balls scatter in all directions. Two solid balls drop into pockets, and Sam turns to Dean with a smile stretching ear to ear.

"Beginners luck?" Sam says, his shoulders lifting up to his ears as he shrugs. Dean laughs at the goofy look on his face.

"Yeah, I guess so!" he replies, his head falling back as he laughs. He circles the table with his cue, looking for a good shot to take, and watching Sam as he takes a long drink from his beer. Dean can’t help watch his throat contract and relax, imagining running his nose along the length of Sam’s throat.

Realizing that he is staring, Dean shakes himself. He leans over and lines up his shot, a green stripe in the corner pocket. Sam saunters over and leans against the table, watching. The hem of his blue polo shirt rides up, giving Dean a peek of his tanned hip and the elastic of his black boxer briefs. Dean misses the shot by a wide margin.

“It’s uh, been a while,” Dean says, scratching at his head and reaching for his beer. Sam smiles slightly as he leans over the table to take a shot. Dean seizes the opportunity, standing right behind the pocket and pressing up against the edge of the table. Sam glances up at Dean, who winks. Sam raises an eyebrow and then sinks the shot without taking his eyes off Dean.

“Oh, you hustled me, huh?” Dean laughs out. Shaking his head, he comes around the table to stand in front of Sam.

“I’m full of useless talent,” Sam replies, shrugging as he takes a small step forward, bringing his chest within inches of Dean’s. The closer he stands, the more noticeable the height difference is, and Dean finds himself looking at Sam’s mouth. Dean swallows, feeling the heat rush up to his cheeks as he tilts his head back to meet Sam’s eyes.

“Need another beer?” Sam asks. Dean can smell the beer on his breath as it washes over his face, and the smell of Sam’s aftershave mingles with it to create an alluring scent.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean manages to choke out. Sam grins and turns away, breaking the spell. Dean can’t help but watch the way Sam’s lanky legs look in the jeans that fit oh, so perfectly on Sam’s ass.

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


       “Hey man, what’s up?” Cas asked around a mouthful of Capn’ Crunch cereal. Dean groaned in response, rubbing his eyes with one fist while rummaging around for a coffee mug.

       “Coffee, then talk,” Dean responds, getting a laugh out of Cas. He pours himself a generous mug of coffee then sits down next to Dean at the table in their kitchen.

       “Dude, do you ever wear a shirt? Fuck, it’s like you’re photoshopped,” Cas complains, glaring over at Dean. “You’re making us mere humans look bad.”

       Dean laughed at that remark, glancing down at his bare chest and stomach. He slept naked most nights, and had pulled on a pair of red sweats on his way out of his room.

       “Just be glad I’m wearing pants,” he told Cas, leaning past him to grab the cereal and milk. “What’s going on today?”

       “Uh, Benny was talking about hitting up Flannigan’s for drinks later,” Cas says, standing from his stool to rinse his bowl out in the sink.

       “Sounds good,” Dean replies with his mouth full.

       “How was last night?” Cas turns to lean against the counter, one eyebrow up.

       “Good,” Dean grunts, shoveling another spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth. “Fun.”

       “Okay, really? Your first date with a guy since you-know-who, which I’m sure I don’t need to remind you was forever ago, and that’s all you’re gonna tell me?”

“I don’t know, man. Don’t be weird. We drank a couple beers, he hustled me in pool, and then we called it a night.”

“Alright, so are you guys hanging out again?”

“Yeah I got his number. I figured I should wait more than 8 hours before calling him, though, if that’s okay with you?” Dean asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up. I gotta get to work. Practice is at 3, don’t be late, I’m not covering for you with Coach just because you’re hungover.”

  
  
  


Dean emerged from the showers after practice and rummaged through his bag for his deodorant. His phone was blinking green, so he checked his messages.

“Benny says Flannigan’s in 20,” Dean tells Cas, who’s getting dressed down the bench from him. “I’ll drive.”

“Yeah I bet you will. Any excuse to drive that car, eh?”

“My Baby needs love, she misses me,” Dean shrugs, trying to remember the last time he drove his ‘67 Chevy Impala. The car was his pride and joy, in pristine condition, handed down from his father when he turned 18.

“Alright let’s go,” Cas says, tossing his dirty socks into the bottom of his locker and swinging the door shut. “Gabe, Zeke, you guys coming?”

“Definitely,” Zeke turns from the mirror to glance at Cas, his gel-covered hands still perfecting his signature spike.

“No can do, compadre,” Gabe chimes in. “I’ve got plans with Lydia.”

“Bring her out, Meg’s gonna meet us there.”

“Maybe, I can run it by her.”

“Alright, so that’s a no from Gabe and Lydia,” Cas retorts sarcastically.

“Whatever, dude!” Gabe throws a wet towel at Cas’s head, which Cas dodges, laughing.

  
  


The bar is packed, which is not normal, even for a saturday night. Putting it nicely, Flannigan’s is a dive, usually quiet unless there’s a band or a big game. Tonight, the crowd fills every table and most all of the floor space. The guys all carpooled in the Impala, so they walk in together. Dean immediately spots Benny standing at the bar, surrounded by his usual gaggle of cheerleaders. They make their way through the crowd, losing Zeke when he spots his on-again off-again girlfriend, Jamie, at a table with other girls from the marching band. Cas sidles up behind Dean as they approach the bar, and Dean flags down the bartender for a couple of beers.

“Thick crowd tonight. Is there a band?” Dean shouts over the noise of the crowd.

“Yeah, Arctic Devil! I haven’t seen these guys in ages! I heard they’re going on a tour with some famous metal band next month!” Benny shouts back. One of the cheerleaders pulls a stereotypical ‘woo!’ and clings to Benny’s shoulders. He ignores her, but lifts his arm over her head to wrap around her waist. The girl is past drunk, but still manages a blush as she rubs her cheek against his chest. Dean rolls his eyes, turning to grab his and Cas’s beers from the bar.

“Hey, there’s Meg.” Dean nods towards the door, where Cas’s girlfriend stands looking around the bar. Cas waves, and she smiles before winding her way through the crowd. She’s wearing tight jeans and a tighter tank top, showing off her lean stomach. Paired with knee-high leather boots and a matching leather jacket, Dean appreciates how good she looks.

“Hi, baby!” Cas says loudly as she comes up to them. She wraps her slender arms around his neck and gives him a quick kiss.

“Hey Dean. How was practice?” she asks, looking from Cas to Dean and back again.

“Hey Meg. It was good, but your boyfriend needs to work on his crossovers,” Dean replies, giving Cas a light shove with his elbow.

“I keep telling him that,” Meg says, laughing and kissing Cas on the cheek as he rolls his eyes. “How was your date last night?”

“Who didn’t you tell, Cas?” Dean asks incredulously. Cas shrugs, gulping at his beer. “It was good. Nothing major, just drinks and pool.”

“Are you interested in seeing him again?” Meg asks, untangling herself from Cas’s neck and stealing the beer from his hand.

“Absolutely, yeah.”

“Good, cause he’s standing right over there,” Meg nods her head towards the far end of the bar. Looking around Benny’s massive shoulders, Dean can see Sam, leaning against the bar with a group of guys from the baseball team. “Go say hi!”

Dean blushes a deep crimson, turning back to face the bar and taking a swig of beer.

“Nah, I don’t want to interupt him.”

“Oh please, dude. Go talk to him. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“You have to now,” Cas adds. “He’s looking over here.”

Dean turns to see Sam looking at him, their eyes meeting, and Sam raises his glass in a wave. Dean smiles and raises his back, then turns to Cas and Meg.

“Shit, do I look okay?”

“You look fine, honey. Go,” Meg gives him a light shove between his shoulder blades. Sam is heading towards him, and they meet in the middle of the bar.

“Hey, Sam, how’s it going?”

“Good, just hanging out with the guys. You?”

“Great. Same. Just got done with practice.”

“Ah, cool. So have you heard this band before?” Sam asks, running his hand through his hair. “Adam was saying that they’re about to tour or something?”

“Yeah, they used to play here all the time. I guess they leave next month to tour with some metal band,” Dean tells him. “I need another beer. Come meet the guys.”

“Sure,” Sam says, following Dean as he leads him back towards Cas and Benny. “Hey guys, this is Sam Remington. Sam, this is Benny Lafitte, Captain of the football team. Cas, AC on the hockey team, and his girlfriend, Meg.”

Sam shakes hands with Benny, Cas, and Meg.

“Yeah, Cas, we met at that frat party a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh right, yeah I remember now. Nice to see you again, dude.”

“So Sam,” Meg starts, sidling up next to Dean, “you got a thing for my Dean here?”

“WOW Meg, not even gonna try to be cool?” Dean asks, turning towards her and pegging her with an incredulous stare.

“Yeah, I do,” Sam replies nonchalantly, starring Meg down. “Is that okay with you?”

“Sure is, hot stuff. Just make sure you treat him right.”

“Jesus Meg!” Dean barks out, his face burning even deeper red. “You’re not my mother!”

“I know, I know, sorry. I’m just looking out,” Meg says, breaking her eye contact with Sam to look over at Dean and wink. “I’ll just leave you boys alone then.”

Meg takes Cas’s hand and pulls him towards the open floor where a few people are dancing to the stereo as the band sets up.

“God, sorry about that. Meg, she’s uh…” Dean starts, wracking his brain for an appropriate name to call her.

“Special.”

“Not the word I was going to use, but yeah, special works,” Dean laughs out. “She’s like a sister to me though. She and Cas have been dating since 11th grade. We all went to the same high school and Cas lives with me.”

“She seems really nice,” Sam says, glancing over to where Cas and Meg are dancing in the crowd. Meg’s head is against Cas’s chest, and they sway slowly, even though the pop song on the stereo has a fast beat.

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s good for Cas, keeps him focused,” Dean adds, watching the couple as well.

“Sam! National Champs three years running now, you guys gonna pull it off again?” Benny shouts over the brunette still wrapped around his waist. Dean highly suspects he’s supporting most of her weight.

“I sure hope so, man. We’ve got a great line-up this year. Tough shoes to fill, but I think I’ll manage!” Sam shouts back. The band takes the stage and the crowd erupts in cheers.

Sam and Dean turn towards the stage as the band starts their opening number. It’s loud and thumping, and Dean can see why they’re touring with a metal band. He can’t hear over the music as Sam leans over to say something.

“What?” Dean yells back. “I can’t hear a damn thing!”  
Sam bends close and whisper shouts in his ear, “do you need another beer?!”

“No, I’m good, I’m driving tonight!” Dean shouts back, leaning close enough to smell the delicious scent of Sam’s aftershave.

Sam nods, then points towards the bar and at himself. Dean nods back, and Sam heads towards the bar. A couple minutes later, Dean hears shouting over the music and turns to look over his shoulder. Sam is standing at the bar, nose to nose with another guy. The stranger looks wasted, his cheeks flushed, and he seems to be yelling at Sam.

Dean rushes over, coming to stand slightly in front of Sam, placing himself between Sam and the new guy.

“Oh your little boyfriend’s gonna come stick up for his baby?” the guy leers.

“What the fuck is your problem man?” Dean asks, at the same time as Sam leans over his shoulder and tells the guy to fuck off.

“This ain’t no homo bar, so take your faggot and go somewhere else!” the guy shouts at Sam.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Dean yells. He can feel Sam pressing up against his back and he reaches his arm back to hold Sam in place. Benny comes up to stand next to them, and Dean can see Cas and Meg making their way quickly through the crowd.

“Excuse me mother fucker?” Benny shouts, shoving past Dean to get right in the guy’s face. “You want to take this outside?”

“We can do this right here!” the guy yells back, swaying slightly before pressing his chest against Benny’s in a macho showdown way. Cas comes up behind Sam and tries to ask what is going on, holding Meg’s hand to keep her behind him.

“This dude just got all in my face and started talking shit,” Sam says, his face getting redder by the minute. “Dean, Benny, it’s fine, don’t get in a fight over it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Dean says over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Sam’s briefly. He shoves past Benny and pushes the guy with both hands. “You want to go? Let’s go. But not in here.”

“No way am I going anywhere with you, queer!”

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, then pulls his fist back and punches the guy across the jaw. The man collapses instantly. Unfortunately, he’s still conscious, and is now being backed by two more huge guys Dean recognizes from some frat or another.

One of the frat bros steps over his friend and swings at Dean, and it turns into a brawl, with fists flying and bodies being shoved. Dean takes a left hook to the jaw that has him seeing stars. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sam knock a guy down with an uppercut to the chin. Cas bodily shoves Meg backwards to avoid her being hit before he leaps into the fray. Benny is on the ground wrestling with the biggest of the guys when the bartender leaps over the bar with a baseball bat.

“Get the fuck out!” he screams at them, kicking the drunken frat guy in the back, forcing him to release his chokehold on Cas’s neck.

Cas turns and shoves the guy off him as the fight breaks up. He grabs Meg’s hand and storms out of the bar, followed closely by Benny and a couple of the cheerleaders.

“You alright?” Dean asks, watching as Sam wipes the blood from his mouth.

“Yeah, man, I’m good,” he replies, stepping over one of the unconscious jerks on the floor. Dean follows Sam out of the bar leaving the biggest frat brother to look after his unconscious friends.

 

 

Sam and Dean catch up with the others as they stand in the parking lot catching their breath. Cas pinches his nose shut, trying to stop the flow of blood, as Meg worries over him, cradling his head between her hands. Benny laughs quietly, looking better than the rest, but nursing bloody knuckles.

"That was awesome!" Sam laughs, throwing his arm around Dean's shoulder as they walk over to the guys.

"Yeah it kinda was," Dean agrees, glancing up at Sam and smiling at the grin on his face. They both lean against the hood of Dean’s car. Sam presses his fingers to the cut above Dean's eyebrow, the blood from it running down to cloud Dean's vision.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks him seriously, looking into his eyes. Sam's lip is split but the bleeding seems to have stopped, and a bruise is forming on his cheek.

"Yeah, I'm great!" is Sam's reply. "You? Your eye is gonna be black tomorrow."

"I'm fine," Dean tells him, his fingers coming up to brush lightly over the blossoming color just under Sam 's right eye.

"Coach is gonna kill us if he finds out!" Cas says, his voice coming out nasally through his pinched nose. He throws his head back and laughs, causing more blood to pour from his nose.

"Dudes! What the hell?" Zeke yelled across the parking lot as he jogged towards them from the bar.

"It's my fault," Sam started to say, glancing over at him.

"No way," Dean retorted. "That guy had no right to say what he said."

"Well whatever you guys did, it was awesome. They just carried those guys out the back, all beat the hell up," Zeke told them, coming over to shake Sam's hand.

"Right, Sam this is Zeke. Zeke, Sam," Dean introduced his goalie. "Where the hell were you?"

"Sorry, man, Jamie was all up my ass about some bullshit. I didn't even see it happen."

"It's cool," Dean shrugs.

"Well you guys kicked some serious ass," Zeke tells him, then leans over to slap Benny's high five.

"Fuck yeah we did," Benny shouts, "no one messes with one of our own!"

Sam looks up at him at the implication, a huge grin dimpling his cheeks. Benny smiles back and claps him on the shoulder.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Meg says, pulling Cas's hand towards her car.

"Yeah, I'll see ya later, guys. It was nice meeting you, Sam," Benny said, walking backwards toward his truck.

"You too," Sam replied with a wave.

"I'm gonna stay with Jamie," Zeke tells Dean, giving his captain a mock salute before turning to head back into the bar. Dean rolls his eyes and then turns to Sam.

"Do you have a car here, or..." he trails off, about to invite Sam back to his apartment but not wanting to seem to forward.

"Uh, no I caught a ride with Milligan. I'll just wait out here for him."

"Well I can give you a ride home," Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or, uh, you could come back to my place. We've got beer and playstation."

"Sounds good," Sam replies, the corner of his mouth twitching up and his dimple showing.

"What?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrow at Sam's expression.

"It's cute, that thing you do, when you're nervous or whatever."

"What thing?" Dean asks again, although he knows the answer.

"The way you rub the back of your neck."

"Oh, umm, yeah..." Dean stuttered out, blushing and ducking his head.

"It's cute," Sam repeated, and Dean felt him step closer, the front of Sam's black t-shirt brushing against the open zipper of Dean's jacket. Dean glances up, his emerald eyes meeting Sam's sunflower gaze. Sam's fingers push lightly against Dean's chin, tilting his head up. Dean closes his eyes as Sam's lips press softly against his.

Sam starts to pull away and Dean presses against him harder, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Sam’s hand fists the front of Dean’s jacket, Dean’s hands finding their way to Sam’s hips. He pulls Sam against him, and Sam’s lips fall open. Dean darts his tongue into Sam’s mouth, tasting him. Sam tastes like Bud, blood, and beer nuts. And a taste of honey.

Sam pulls away for a moment and Dean has to stop the groan from escaping his throat.

“What was that for?” he asks instead, looking up at Sam and blushing.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that since the first time I saw you.”

“At the frat house?”

“Ah, no. Umm,” Sam starts, and now it’s his turn to blush. “About a week before that, I saw you getting coffee on campus. Uh, I kinda only went to that party because Adam said you’d be there.” Sam’s blush darkens the bruise on his cheek and his eyes fall.

“That’s why I went too.” Sam’s eyes flash up to meet his, and he smiles so brightly it lights up Dean’s night. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

“Bud or Molson?” Dean calls from the kitchen.

“Molson!” Sam replies from the living room couch. He winces, pressing the towel full of ice against his cheek again. He leans back against the cushion, his lanky legs crossed at the ankle. He laughs, adding, “you would have Canadian beer.”

“Gotta live up to the hockey cliches,” Dean chuckles, handing Sam his beer before plopping down on the couch next to him. His fingers scratch at the bandage above his eyebrow that Sam had gently applied when they first got back to Dean’s apartment.

“Don’t scratch at it,” Sam tells him, reaching over to pull Dean’s hand away.

“I think Cas has that new Need for Speed game. You want to play it?” Dean asks, turning to Sam, and noticing that Sam was still holding onto his wrist. The heat from his fingers seemed to travel up Dean’s arm to his cheeks.

“Definitely! I’ve heard it’s epic,” is Sam’s eager reply. He lets go of Dean’s wrist and takes a gulp of his beer before setting it on the table next to the couch. Dean sets his beer on the opposite table and crosses over to squat in front of the entertainment center. He turns on the playstation and checks the case for the game. Cas must have just been playing it, as the case is empty. Grabbing two remotes from their chargers, he hands one to Sam before sitting back down. He sits forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, and Sam settles further into the cushion, his thigh against Dean’s hip.

The game boots up, and Dean flips through the different menu options until both boys are set with high-speed, expensive cars, and are on the run from a gaggle of cops chasing them. They’re rounding a turn when Sam leans over, shoving Dean with his shoulder, causing Dean’s car to spin out.

“Hey!” Dean laughs, frantically pressing buttons to get his car back under control and keep from getting fake arrested. “No fair!”

Sam laughs, his whole body shaking from it. Dean waits for an opportunity, then reaches back and grabs Sam’s remote, pressing the joystick and making Sam’s car crash into a building. Sam pulls his controller out of Dean’s reach, leaning away and cracking up.

Dean leans farther forward, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he’s safe from Sam’s reach as he pulls into first place.

“Oh man!” Sam exclaims, sitting up and concentrating on the game.

Suddenly, Dean feels Sam’s hand slide up the back of his shirt, his fingers crawling up Dean’s spine. Dean jumps, dropping his remote and losing control of his vehicle. Sam snickers and reclaims his first place. Dean quickly grabs his remote and tries to catch up. Through a series of tricky maneuvers and a hand running up Sam’s thigh, Dean manages to pull into first again.

Dean hears Sam laugh quietly behind him, and tenses up, expecting Sam’s hand to snake under his shirt again. Sam surprises him again when he slips a finger under the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs and runs it from one hip to the other.

“Damn, I give,” Dean says, tossing down his remote and turning to Sam, the game already forgotten as he pulls Sam towards him with a handful of his shirt.

His lips smash into Sam’s and he hears the remote fall from Sam’s fingers before Sam’s massive hand wraps around the back of his head and pulls him closer. His other hand grasps Dean's arm, his long fingers pressing into Dean's bicep. Sam’s tongue presses between Dean’s lips and rubs against his own. Dean moans into Sam’s open mouth, and Sam smiles against his lips.

Dean's hands find their way under Sam's shirt, fingers dancing across rippling muscle. Sam's fingers press hander into Dean's skin, sending shivers up his spine. Sam leans back against the armrest of the couch, pulling Dean with him. Dean supports himself with one arm next to Sam's head and a knee between Sam's thigh, his other foot planted firmly on the floor.

Bending his knee slightly, Dean can feel the pressure of Sam’s thigh pressing between his legs. He thrusts his hips forward slightly, the friction rubbing against his growing erection. His breath hitches as Sam pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Sam’s hand travels up Dean’s arm to cup his jaw, his thumb rubbing across the stubble there.

The door to the apartment bursts open and Cas stumbles in, followed closely by a giggling Meg. They freeze as they spot the scene unfolding on the couch. Dean quickly pushes off of Sam and sits back on the couch.

“Shit, sorry,” Cas whispers, grimacing. Meg peers over his shoulder and blushes a crimson red. “Uh, we’re just gonna head to bed.”

They hurriedly close the door and kick off their shoes. Cas pauses to give them a thumbs up before he is forcibly dragged from the room by Meg. Dean looks sheepishly at Sam, and they burst out laughing. Sam runs his hands through his hair and then adjusts his shirt back into place. Dean rubs the back of his neck. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and can’t help but smile at his little taste of honey.

“So, that was awkward,” Sam jokes, trying to relieve some of the tension.

“Yeah, definitely,” Dean says, chuckling.

“Should I go, or…” Sam pauses, looking to Dean.

“No man, don’t worry about it. Do you wanna watch a movie?” Dean asks, turning to face Sam again. “I’ve got a pretty decent collection.”

“Sounds great,” Sam replies, grinning.

“Okay, come on. You can pick.” Dean stands from the couch and waits for Sam to follow before heading back to his room. Sam lets out a low whistle as he stares at the massive collection of dvds taking up most of two bookcases.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna pick. I haven’t seen most of these,” Sam adds, tilting his head and running his finger along the titles.

“Pick one you haven’t seen and I’ll tell you if it’s worth watching.”

“Ah okay, umm…. what about this one?” Sam asks, pulling a dvd from the shelf and passing it over his shoulder to Dean.

“Do you really mean to tell me you haven’t seen The Big Lebowski?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Uh, nope,” Sam admits sheepishly. “Is that bad?”

“No, it’s just a great movie. A classic. You’ll like it.”

“Okay, let’s watch it!” Sam straightens up and plants a kiss on Dean’s lips before stepping past him and heading for the living room..

Dean grins, then looks up to the ceiling and quotes under his breath:

“The Dude abides.”

  
  


Dean sits down next to Sam and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Sam’s lap. He presses play on the dvd menu and the movie starts rolling. The credits start with upbeat music pouring from the surround sound. Dean settles back against the couch cushion, hand on his thigh, arm running almost the length of Sam’s.

“Oh, I like Jeff Bridges,” Sam says, fidgeting around for a more comfortable position, putting one ankle over his other knee, his left leg resting atop Dean’s right. He runs a hand through his hair like he always does, and then tries to put his arm around Dean’s shoulder, but accidentally elbows Dean in the forehead in the process.

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” Sam exclaims, turning to make sure Dean is okay. Dean cracks up, clutching his chest and bending over, his body shaking.

“That was so smooth, Sammy!” Dean manages to get out between breaths. Sam rubs his back as Dean tries to catch his breath, chuckling.

“Did you just call me Sammy?” he asks, pausing his hand between Dean’s shoulder blades.Dean sits up and looks over at him, cocking his head to the side.

“Huh, I guess so. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam replies, moving his arm to the back of the couch behind Dean. “I like it.”

“Well, I like you, so it fits.”

Sam grins then, and Dean admires the deep dimples in Sam’s tanned cheeks. Dean smiles back, then settles against the couch once more, Sam’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I like you, too,” Sam whispers.

  
  


Dean ends up leaning into Sam side, where he can feel Sam’s laughter against his shoulder. They finish off the popcorn quickly, as well as 2 more beers each. About an hour into the movie, Dean looks over to see that Sam has fallen asleep. He smiles, reaching over to the other end of the couch for a blanket and spreading it across both their laps. Dean turns down the volume on the tv and settles against Sam to watch the rest of the movie, laying his head on Sam’s shoulder.

  
  


He wakes the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of a pan clattering to the floor, followed by a quietly muttered “shit!”

Dean’s eyes pop open and he realizes that both he and Sam had become horizontal in their sleep, with Dean laying on Sam’s chest and Sam’s arms wrapped around him. He can feel Sam’s chin on the top of his head and hear Sam’s heart beating against his ribs. Sitting up slowly and rubbing his eyes, Dean cranes his neck to see into the kitchen as Meg pokes her head out.

“Sorry! I was trying not to wake you two snuggle-bunnies up,” she whispers with a wink.   
“I’m making breakfast though!”

Dean chuckles, rolling his eyes at her. He wipes a hand down his face and turns to wake Sam, but sees that Sam is already awake and smiling at him sleepily.

“Guess I spent the night, huh?” he asks, then bites his tongue between his teeth. “My bad.”

“It’s cool,” Dean tells him, scooting back to give Sam room to sit up. He tosses the blanket onto the back of the couch. “Meg is making breakfast if you want some.”

“Awesome,” Sam agrees, then stretches his arms up over his head, yawning. Dean appreciate the view of Sam’s flat, tan stomach, dusted with a smatter of dark hair. Noticing Meg appreciating as well, Dean pegs her with a stare and waves his hand at her. She giggles, ducking back into the kitchen.

Cas emerges from his bedroom then, shuffling down the hall in his favorite slippers. He’s wearing just a pair Maple Leafs boxers. He freezes when he sees Sam and Dean on the couch, glances down at his lack of clothing, and then shrugs, shuffling into the kitchen to find coffee.

Dean laughs and rolls his eyes. He stands from the couch and cracks his back, twisting side to side. He starts for his room, then turns to Sam.

“I’ve got a toothbrush you can use?” he asks, and Sam nods, getting up to follow him. They pad down the hall to Dean’s room, and then into the attached bathroom. Dean pulls a brand new toothbrush from the drawer, still in its package. “I jus got it from the dentist, I don’t keep toothbrushes around for one night stands or anything like that.”

“I wouldn’t think you would,” Sam replies casually. Dean grabs his toothbrush from the holder and a towel.

“Umm, I’m gonna shower real quick, I’ll use Cas’s bathroom. Go ahead and shower if you want, towels are under the sink. And grab whatever from my closet,” he tells Sam, backing out of the bathroom and heading across the hall to Cas’s room.

Dean brushes his teeth and takes the fastest shower of his life, then wraps his towel around his waist and crosses the hall to his bedroom. The door to the bathroom is closed and he can hear the shower running so he drops his dirty clothes and wet towel into the laundry hamper. 

He steps into a pair of clean boxerbriefs and digs around in a drawer for a t-shirt. Finding an old Styx t-shirt, he pulls it over his head. As he emerges from inside the shirt, Sam is standing in the open bathroom doorway, holding a towel around his waist. Sam’s shaggy brown hair drips water onto his shoulders, the drops flowing down his bare chest.

“Hi,” Dean says, watching a drop of water slide down Sam’s stomach. He feels his boxers become measurably tighter as he stares at Sam’s physique.

“Hi,” Sam replies with a sly smile, his eyes traveling up and down Dean’s form.

Dean blushes, turning to grab a pair of sweatpants from a drawer. He bends over to pull them on, and when he stands, Sam hasn’t moved, but is still staring at him.

“Just, uh, grab whatever you want. T-shirts, boxers, sweats, shorts,” Dean tells Sam, pointing to each drawer in turn. “I’ll just, um, get out of your hair.”

“Thanks,” Sam replies, smiling at him and pushing a hand through his damp locks, making the ends curl. “I’ll be right out.”

Dean leaves, pulling the door shut behind him, and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He rubs his hands through his hair to give it some style, and then reaches into his boxers to adjust his erection before heading down the hallway to the kitchen.

Cas and Meg are sitting at the table when Dean wanders into the kitchen. He grabs a clean mug and pours himself some coffee before sitting down.

“Smells great, Meg,” Dean tells her, reaching for the platter of pancakes. “I used your shower, Cas, hope that’s cool.”

“Yeah man, totally,” Cas replies through a mouthful of pancake. Dean puts a couple pieces of bacon on his plate and reaches for the syrup.

“So Sam stayed the night…” Meg starts, looking to Dean to finish.

“Uh yeah, we fell asleep watching The Big Lebowski,” Dean says with a shrug. He smothers his pancakes with syrup and digs in.

“I hope that’s okay with you guys,” Sam says, coming into the kitchen. He’s wearing a black pair of Dean’s basketball shorts and a red ETU t-shirt.

“Yeah, no problem,” Cas replies, then adds, “mugs are in the top left.”

Sam takes down a mug and pours himself some coffee, then sits down next to Dean. He helps himself to a couple of pancakes and a few pieces of bacon. Dean passes him the syrup.

“Thanks. And thanks for letting me borrow some clothes,” Sam tells Dean, pouring syrup over his plate.

“No problem,” Dean replies as he crunches into a piece of bacon.

“So Sam, we all know you play baseball, but what’s your major?” Meg asks around her coffee mug. Sam swallows before replying.

“I’m Pre-Law.”

“That’s cool. What made you decide to do that?”

“My Dad is a lawyer, and both my grandfathers. So I guess you could say it’s the family business.”

“You comin’ to the game tonight?” Cas asks Sam, looking from him to Dean.

“Umm, not sure. I’ve got practice at five. What time is the game?” Sam says, turning to ask Dean.

“Seven-thirty,” Dean replies.

“I can probably swing by after practice,” Sam agrees. “Nice ink, Cas.”  
“Thanks, bro. It’s a work in progress,” Cas says, glancing down at his most recent piece, a tribal band that encircles his left bicep. He also has a pair of doves flying up the right side of his stomach, and a group of lilies on his right shoulder. “Do you have any?”

“No, but I’ve been wanting to get one for a while.”

“What would you get?” Meg asks, standing and taking the empty plates over to the sink.

“I’ll do those, Meg,” Dean tells her, not wanting her to clean on top of making breakfast for them all.

“Not sure, but I’ve got a couple ideas,” Sam replies to Cas.

“You gonna get a tramp stamp?” Dean laughs, giving Sam a teasing push with his elbow.

“You’re so funny,” Sam says, drawing out the ‘so’ for emphasis.

“Have you seen Dean’s?” Cas asks, trying but failing to hide his smirk.

“Uh, nope, no I haven’t,” Sam replies, although Dean’s sure he caught a glimpse when he saw Dean changing.

“Well? Show him, Dean!”

“Cas, you’re a pain in my ass,” Dean tells him, giving his friend a frown.

“Just take your shirt off, pansy.”

“I’d like to see,” Sam adds, meeting Dean’s eye with a shy smile.

Dean groans, then stands from the table and lifts off his shirt. The first piece Sam sees is a double barrel shotgun tattooed up Dean’s ribcage.

“The whole team has shotguns,” Cas tells Sam, turning in his chair to show Sam his own tattoo. The butt of the gun sits on the back of his hip, and the barrel ends on his shoulder blade. “It plays on the whole ‘Hunters’ thing. I took creative liberties with mine though.”

Sam looks closer and notices a thorny vine of purple flowers that wraps up the shotgun’s barrels.

“Very cool,” Sam says appreciatively before turning back to Dean. “Woah, that one is sick.”

Sam stands to get a better look at the tattoo on Dean’s shoulder blade. The tribal octopus is intricate, and looks like it took hours to complete. The tentacles trail over and around Dean’s shoulder and onto his chest. Sam’s finger traces one tentacle as it circles around Dean’s nipple. Which, Sam is delighted to see, is pierced with a silver loop.

Sam bites his lip between the side of his teeth and looks up to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean is looking right at him with a huge smile on his face. Neither one of them is paying attention to their surroundings until Cas clears his throat loudly.

Dean glares at him over his shoulder, while Sam turns red and sits back down.

“Cas, baby, go shower,” Meg admonishes, slapping him playfully on the back of the head. “You promised Gabe that we’d go see a movie with him and Lydia today.” She turns to Sam and Dean. “Do you guys want to come with? I think we’re going to see that new Star Trek movie at twelve-fifteen.”

Sam looks to Dean, who looks to Sam. They both laugh.

“I’m down, if you want to,” Dean says.

“Sure, sounds good to me,” Sam replies, nodding. “But I should probably go home and change first.”

“Yeah, let me get dressed and then I’ll drive you,” Dean says, standing and taking both of their coffee mugs to the sink. Sam gets up from the table and flops down on the couch, grabbing the remote from the table. He gives Dean a thumbs up and a smile, then clicks on the tv as Dean heads down the hallway to his room.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The next weekend, Dean stands on the balcony, flipping steaks and vegetable skewers on the grill. Cas pokes his head out of the sliding screen door and sniffs the air appreciatively.

“Smells good. Sam coming over?”

“Thanks, and yeah he should be here any minute. Are you still going to dinner with Meg?”

“Yup. There’s some new Italian place over in Huntsville she wants to try out. Something something Trattoria. Who knows.”

“And you’re driving all the way over there tonight? That’s a lot of road.”

“Why do you think I drive a Prius? It’s not for the manly reputation,” Cas says as he closes the screen and crosses to the front door, stooping to put on his shoes.

Dean laughs, waving to Cas as he leaves the apartment.

A few minutes later, Sam knocks on the door. Dean shuts the lid of the barbeque and goes into the apartment to open the door. Sam is standing in the hallway holding a bunch of yellow flowers, his cheeks beat red.

“Uh, come on in,” Dean says, standing back and holding the door open as Sam crosses the threshold. He hands Dean the flowers. “What’s up with the flowers?”

“I wasn’t really sure what the protocol was. Umm, I’ve never dated a guy before. Or anyone for that matter.” Sam stutters out. “Sorry, that’s weird, isn’t it? Yeah, its weird. Sorry I didn’t know what to bring. Umm, I brought beer, too,” he adds in a rush, holding up a six-pack of Stella Artois.

Dean smiles, then bows his head to smell the flowers.

“They’re great. Thanks Sammy,” Dean says, pulling Sam towards him by his t-shirt and kissing him on his surprised mouth.

  
  


After dinner, Sam and Dean stand hip to hip in the kitchen doing dishes. Dean washes, Sam dries. The stereo is playing classic rock and Dean hums along. The silence between them is surprisingly comfortable. They take turns catching the each other’s glances and smiling.

“So I’ve got an idea, something we can do tonight,” Sam starts as he dries off the last dish and sets it on the counter.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, plucking the cloth from Sam’s fingers and drying his hands with it. Sam grins, and runs his hands through his hair. Dean smiles at the gesture, which has quickly become his favorite.

“Yeah, I was thinking we could go to the cages and hit a few balls? It’s always deserted this late at night, so we’d have the place to ourselves.”

“That sounds like fun, Sammy,” Dean replies, dropping the dish towel onto the counter. “Let’s do it.”

They grab their phones and keys and start to put on their shoes.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” Sam says as Dean squats to die his sneaker. Dean stands, and Sam takes a step closer, their chests touching. His hands snake up to wrap around the back of Dean’s neck and he presses a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. Dean smiles against Sam’s mouth, and Sam kisses his smile three more times in a row before backing away, his dimples deeper than ever.

 

 

They pull into the empty parking lot of the sports center to see that Sam was correct, the place is deserted. Sam parks his large black pick-up truck in a spot close to the cages, and the boys hop down from the cab. Sam opens the back door and pulls out his gear bag.

"Have you ever done this?" he asks Dean, swinging the bag over his shoulder and closing the door.

"Sure, if little league in elementary school counts," Dean replies with a laugh. “But I did play tennis for a couple years, so I think I’ll be alright.”

"Okay," Sam chuckles. He crosses to a metal fuse box and opens it, flipping a lever with a loud click. Lights pop on to illuminate the cages.

"You go first and I'll watch the master," Dean says with a wink. Sam laughs as he sets down his bag and pulls out a couple bats. He hands one to Dean.

"Swing when I do," Sam tells him, then opens a cage and steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him. He starts up the machine, turns a couple knobs, and presses a big green button.

Dean stands outside the fence, the bat forgotten in his hands as he admires Sam as he gets ready to swing. Sam's impressive biceps ripple with corded muscle as he adjusts his grip on the handle of the bat. Sam's shaggy curly hair falls into his eyes and he pushes it back with his left hand. Dean's mouth falls open as Sam rolls his shoulders, causing the muscles in his back to undulate under his tight t-shirt. A ball comes flying out of the pitcher and Sam hits it with a loud crack. Moments later, another one flies and again Sam slams it with the bat.

Dean stares, watching the fluid way Sam moves into each swing, striking the ball with precision. His jeans hug every inch of his lean legs and perfectly shaped ass. Dean's tongue darts out as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You're not swinging," Sam says, stepping to the side of the cage, the bat resting in his shoulder. He presses the red button to stop the machine.

"I was admiring your technique," Dean tells him, quirking his eyebrow. Sam grins at him.

"Are you warm for my form, Dean Winchester?" Sam teases.

"Definitely," Dean admits with a smirk. Sam laughs, pushing out the door to the cage and coming to stand in front of Dean.

"Your turn," Sam tells him, running his hand down Dean's arm to take the bat from his hand and replacing it with his own.

Dean smiles, stepping past Sam and into the cage. He turns the knobs to Sam's instruction and presses the green button before stepping into the box marked on the ground. A ball pops out of the machine and Dean cracks it hard to the left.

"Nice!" he hears from behind him. "If you drop your back elbow it will straighten out."

Dean follows the advice and the next one indeed goes closer to the center of the cage. A grin spreads wider and wider on his face with each ball he strikes, and he laughs with each miss. He can feel the stress of classes and his busy schedule slowly melt from his shoulders. When the machine finally clicks off, Dean is breathing heavy but beaming from ear to ear.

"Wow, that was awesome," he tells Sam as he turns to leave the cage. Sam is grinning as he reaches to take the bat.

"It's a great stress reliever, right? I love coming here after class or a test. I used to be at the cages in high school almost every night."

"I can see why, that felt great!" Dean admits, shaking the tingling sensation out of his hands. Sam laughs at the giddy expression on Dean's face before pulling him in for a kiss. Dean deepens the kiss by stepping against Sam's chest and tilting his head, his hands cradling Sam's face.

Sam presses against him and walks him backwards until Dean feels the chain link fence digging into his back. Sam's tongue invades his mouth and his hands invade Dean's shirt, long fingers exploring the ripples of Dean's stomach and sides. Dean moans as Sam's fingers count their way up his ribs. Dean pushes one knee between Sam's legs, spreading them as Sam kisses and bites his was along Dean's jaw to his ear.

Suddenly they are doused in flashing red and blue light. A patrol car appears seemingly out of thin air behind Sam. The officer flips on his siren for a split second and they jump apart.

"Shit," Dean curses, bring his hand up to shield his eyes from the cop's spotlight.

“Move it along, fellas," says a deep voice from the rolled down window of the car.

“Yes sir,“ Sam says, nodding. He steps back another step and digs his keys out of his pocket to unlock his truck. Dean adjusts the front of his pants as Sam bends to pick up the bats and put them in the bag. The officer pulls away, and Sam stands, his eyes meeting Dean's. They pause and then start laughing hysterically. "Let's get outta here."

 

 

“My place is just around the corner,” Sam glances over at Dean as he drives. The windows are rolled down in the truck, and Dean taps his fingers in time with Aerosmith against the top of the doorframe. “Should be empty, I think Adam and Garth were going out with guys from the team.”

“Sounds good,” Dean replies, smiling over at Sam, whose hair was whipping around in the breeze. Dean suddenly gets the urge to run his fingers through it, so he does. It’s softer than it looks, and Dean loves the way the ends curl around his fingers as if they don’t want his fingers to leave. Sam sighs, tilting his head into Dean's hand.

"That's my favorite feeling, when someone plays with my hair," Sam tells Dean quietly. Dean simply smiles in reply and runs his hand through it again. Sam slows and turns into the parking lot of a huge apartment complex.

“Wow, you could definitely get lost in here,” Dean observes, looking out the window at the 10 large apartment buildings.

“I have, a couple times. It’s not fun,” Sam admits with a laugh. “I'm in the fourth building on the right,” he adds, pointing. He pulls into the side lot of the building and finds an empty parking spot. Sam pulls his keys out to let them through the outer door into the lobby. As they wait for the elevator, Dean feels Sam’s arm brush against his once, then again. When it happens a third time, Dean realizes it’s a hint, and grabs ahold of Sam’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He stares straight ahead nonchalantly but catches a glimpse of Sam’s sheepish grin from the corner of his eye.

The door pings open and Sam pulls him inside. They ride up in silence, Sam rubbing circles around the knuckle of Dean’s thumb with the pad of his own thumb. Dean grins as he watches the numbers climb. When they reach the 6th floor, a bell dings and the doors slide open to reveal a long hallway stretching out in both directions.

Sam heads to the left, and Dean commits it to memory, already sure he’s going to get lost at least once in this complex. They stop in front of a door halfway down the hall, number 422, Dean memorizes. Sam starts to unlock the door but pauses at the sounds of muffled shouts.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath before turning to Dean. “Sounds like they’re here. Do you want to come in, or…?”

“Sure, we’re already here, let’s go in,” Dean tells him, squeezing his hand slightly.

Sam turns the key in the knob, pushes the door open, and steps over the threshold. Instantly the shouting begins.

“SAM!!!” shouts one guy, “REMINGTON!!!” adds another.

Sam pulls Dean into the apartment by their linked hands. Everyone stops shouting, and Adam exclaims awkwardly, “oh shit, it’s Dean Winchester!”

“Yeah, guys, this is Dean. Dean, this is guys,” Sam introduces with a wave of his hand. Dean nods and waves his hand, “what’s up, guys?”

“Hang on,” Sam says, dropping Dean’s hand and turning to close the door. He kicks off his shoes and Dean follows suit. “Okay, that’s Adam Milligan, Garth Fitzgerald, Christian Campbell, his brother, Mark, and Uriel Johnson” Sam says, pointing to each of the guys in turn.

Dean knows the guys from seeing them at different games and parties, but had never actually met any of them. He shakes Adam’s hand first as he is closest to the door. Adam is a shortish blonde kid with dark eyebrows and a mean throw. Next to him is Garth, a tall, scrawny outfielder. Dean sticks out his hand but Garth jumps up from the couch and wraps him in a hug.

“Garth’s a hugger, especially when he’s been drinking,” Sam apologizes, laughing along with the rest of the guys. Garth unwinds his arms from around Dean and flops back down on the couch with a hiccup.

Christian and Mark both reach over to shake Dean’s hand at the same time, and you can tell they are brothers right away, although Christian looks to be about two years older than Mark. Both of them are well built, blonde, and tough looking. Christian is shortstop, while Mark is center field. They both smile and nod politely, as does Dean.

Uriel surprises Dean with a brusque shake, no smile. Dean looks to Sam, who shrugs.

“What are you guys up to?” Sam asks, adding, “I thought y’all were headed out?”

“We were but Uriel brought over some beer and the new Red Dead Redemption, so we stayed in. Sorry, I guess I could have shot ya a text or something,” Adam adds apologetically, his voice raising towards the end of his sentence as Uriel and Mark unpause the game and continue playing. Dean glances at Sam again, thinking it was pretty rude to turn the game back on when they were talking, and wondering what the hell is up with this Uriel guy.

“It’s cool. I was just swinging by to show Dean the apartment. I’ll see you later,” Sam tells Adam, then turns to Dean, “your place?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Dean replies. Sam holds up a finger and dashes down hall to his bedroom. Dean stands awkwardly by the door, forcing his feet into his shoes without untying them.

“So Dean, are you and Sam dating?” Garth asks, glancing up from the couch. Adam looks over as well, but Uriel scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. Dean glares right at him.

“Yeah, we are,” he says loudly. “Is that an issue?”

Uriel looks away and shrugs, while Adam turns beat red and Garth coughs.

“No dude, not at all. Just curious,” Garth tells him. “Don’t mind Uriel. He’s an asshole.”

Dean shrugs, not answering. Thankfully, Sam comes back into the room, a bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yes. It was nice meeting you Adam, Garth. Campbells, see ya later,” Dean tells the guys, turning to open the door.

“Uhh, see ya,” Sam adds, following Dean out the door and pulling it shut behind him. Dean leans against the wall, banging his head against lightly as he waits for Sam to lock the door. Sam looks over at him and asks, “you okay?”

“What’s up with that Uriel guy? He seems like a real prick.”

“That’s cause he is. He’s been a dick since day one. But he’s been on the team since his freshman year and he’s the pitcher and captain, so no one messes with him. He has a thing about gay guys,” Sam adds, moving to stand in front of Dean. “Fuck him, he’s an asshole.”

Dean smiles slightly, looking up into Sam’s eyes. “You’re right, fuck that guy. I don’t care what he thinks.”

Sam grins, and presses a chaste kiss to Dean’s mouth before slipping his fingers between Dean’s and pulling him down the hall.

  
  


The next morning, Dean wakes up to the quiet humming of Metallica from his cell phone. He starts to groan when he feels Sam’s leg shift against his. A tired smile creeps over his face as he reaches over Sam to pluck his phone from the nightstand and silence it before it can wake him up. Dean lays back against the pillow and rubs a hand down his face. He peers at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam is still sleeping, face pressed against his pillow and his mouth slightly open. Dean watches him sleep, thinking about last night.

They came back to Dean’s apartment to find that Cas and Meg were already sleeping. Dean silently lead Sam down the hall to his room, and closed the door. Dean brushed his teeth while Sam and undressed, and then they switched places. Dean turned the tv in his room to his usual classic rock music video channel and turned on the sleep timer. They crawled under the covers, Dean in his just his boxers and Sam wearing a soft, faded purple t-shirt over his own underwear. Lazily kissing and cuddling, a better part of an hour passed in silence. Dean fell asleep first, and Sam snuggled against his side, their feet tangled together.

Dean looks at the caller ID for whoever the hell decided to call him at 7am on a saturday. His mother’s picture flashes across the screen. He opens a message thread and types out ‘sleeping, i’ll call you later’ before switching his phone to silent and tossing it on the floor. Sighing, he rolls over to his side to face Sam.

It’s been almost 2 years since his last relationship, which ended horribly. His last boyfriend had dragged out the break-up painfully, texting and calling and trying to apologize. He even showed up at the apartment a few times, and was turned away forcibly by Cas and sometimes Meg. Dean’s mother had always told him, once a cheater, always a cheater. And the disloyalty had crushed Dean.

Dean shook himself, trying to erase the memories like an etch-a-sketch, which never worked. So he focused instead on the face of the gorgeous man laying next to him.

Dean’s eyes travel over Sam’s lips, his fingers tracing the path lightly, barely touching his skin. Across Sam’s cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, his finger dips into Sam’s permanent dimple. He twirls a lock of Sam’s soft, chestnut hair between his fingers.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had slept with a man. Not had sex, not hooked up, but actually slept. Holding each other, tangled limbs and mingled breath, hearts beating side by side. No talking, just sleeping, in blissful, peaceful silence. Dean’s eyes flutter once, twice, and he is asleep again.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean sits on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. Sam is lying next to him, his legs across Dean's lap. Dean has his arms wrapped around Sam's knees, clutching a playstation remote and killing zombies in New York City. Meg is on Dean's other side, facing them, Sam's sock-covered toes tucked under her crossed legs. Cas is in the recliner with his feet up.

"Top left, behind that dumpster!" Cas yells at Dean, pointing at the screen. Dean turns and shoots the zombie with his automatic rifle.

"Does anyone need another beer?" Meg asks. Cas raises his hand, tipping back the last of his current bottle with the other. Dean shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the screen. Sam nods, adding his empty to the growing number on the coffee table.

As Meg goes to the kitchen for more beers, Dean's character is eaten by zombies. Cas pumps his fist in the air as CGI blood covers the screen. Groaning, Dean tosses him the remote, then wraps his arms around Sam's legs again. Sam hiccups, then smiles, his hand tucking down against the back of the couch to rub Dean's hip. Meg hands Cas and Sam their beers before folding herself onto the couch again.

"Um, hey Dean?" he asks quietly, his fingers playing with the hem of Dean's t-shirt.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"So, umm," Sam starts nervously, looking at the label of his beer. "We have this thing, umm, for team?"

"What thing?"

"It's like this big dinner thing, next weekend, and uh, it's formal and I totally get it if you don't want to, but uh, I was gonna askyoutogowithme?" he finishes in a rush. Dean chuckles, then reaches over to lift Sam's chin with one finger. Their eyes meet and Dean smiles.

"Of course I'll go with you."

A grin splits Sam's face and he blushes.

"Hey Sam," Meg asks, leaning forward to look around Dean. "Where did you grow up?"

"We've always lived in Lawrence. My dad moved there after the Army and he met my mom there," Sam tells her. "Coming here is actually the first time I've left Kansas."

"Wow, it must be a big change then."

"Yeah it has been, but it's not too bad. I miss home a lot, but I Skype with my parents all the time."

"You're a junior this year right?"

"Take that alley," Dean instructs Cas, paying more attention to the game than Meg and Sam's conversation.

"Yup, I did my first two years at a college in Kansas."

"That's pretty smart, saves money. So, I hope this isn't rude of me to ask, but when did you know you were gay? Or when did you come out?"

"Jesus Meg!" Dean admonishes.

"I'm just curious!" she replies with a shrug.

"It's okay. Ummm, I think I figured it out in middle school. I just wasn't interested in talking about girls like the rest of my friends were. I told my parents sophomore year of high school. They were a little shocked, of course, they're both religious. But they came to terms with it pretty quick and have been supportive."

"So they've never given a boyfriend the third degree?" Meg asks. Cas pauses the game and turns to look at her.

"My mom was not giving you the third degree!"

"Yes she was," Meg tells him, laughing. "I swear she asked me a million questions. I think the only thing she didn't ask was my blood type," she adds to Sam.

"It's been 6 years, and she still won't move on," Cas mutters under his breath, turning back to the game with a roll of his eyes for emphasis.

"Ah, no, I've actually never had a boyfriend," Sam says, and Meg looks at him sheepishly. "Oh, it's no big deal. There's just not really any gay guys in Lawrence? At least, none that I knew of."

Dean glances over at Sam out of the corner of his eye but doesn't say anything, unsure of exactly what someone would say to that. Fortunately, Meg keeps talking, little steam engine that she is.

"Well you definitely picked a good one to start with!" Dean laughs as Meg punches his shoulder. "You better treat him right, not like that last-"

"Meg!" Cas interrupts. She stops, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to bring that up. That's not my story to tell. Sorry, Dean," she apologizes, touching Dean gently on the shoulder.

"It's okay, Meg. It's not a big deal. You can talk about it. I'm not going to freak out or cry or anything," Dean tells her.

"Right, because we aren't going to give him that power, are we?" Meg reminds him.

"Can you tell Meg is a psychology major?" Dean asks, turning to Sam and giving him a smile.

"It's cool if you don't want to talk about it or whatever," Sam tells him. Dean sighs, leaning forward against Sam's knees to grab his beer from the table.

"She's talking about my last boyfriend. We broke up a little over a year ago. We were dating for like two-ish years, then he cheated. So we broke up." Dean shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

"Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that Dean," Sam says, pressing his fingers into Dean's hip for emphasis. "I can't imagine why anyone would cheat on a guy like you," he adds with a smile. Dean smiles over at him.

"That's what I said!" Meg exclaims, leaning forward and hugging Dean's shoulders. She giggles, then releases him, falling back against the armrest again.

Dean rolls his eyes and catches the remote Cas tosses him.

"Hey baby." Cas kicks the leg-rest of the recliner down. "Ready for bed? It's almost three."

"Oh shit, it's really three? Yes, bed!" Meg clambers up from the couch, stumbling slightly. "Goodnight!"

"'Night," Dean tells her as he turns off the video game system.

"Goodnight!" Sam adds.

Cas throws Meg over his shoulder and she shrieks before bursting into a fit of the giggles. Cas salutes the boys before carrying her down the hall to his room.

"I'm about ready for bed, too," Dean admits, downing the last of his beer.

"Me, too," Sam says through a yawn, causing them both to chuckle. Sam lifts his legs off Dean's lap and swings them to the floor. He stands and stretches, and Dean traces a finger along the waist of his sweatpants, slung low on his hips.

Dean and Sam stumble down the hall to Dean's room, the beer buzz getting the better of their balance. Sam laughs as Dean nearly falls trying to take of his sweatpants. He leans against the dresser as he pulls off his own, then lifts his t-shirt off over his head. Dean reaches over his shoulder and pulls his t-shirt off with one hand.

"It's so sexy when you do that," Sam tells him as he crawls under the covers. Dean chuckles as he scoots in next to Sam. He automatically rolls onto his side, Sam reaching over to pull him close. They sleep like this every time, after Sam admitted to Dean he likes to be the big spoon. "Um, hey Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean replies, his eyelids drooping.

"Am I your boyfriend?" Sam asks sleepily.

"I want you to be. Do you want to be?"

"Yeah, I do," Sam whispers against the back of Dean's neck.

"Good, me too," Dean mumbles. He feels Sam's sleepy smile against the back of his neck, and he pulls Sam's hand to his chest, holding it over his heart. "Goodnight, Sammy."

"Goodnight, Dean."

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?” Sam whispers, pulling on Dean’s hand to get his attention. Dean drags Sam along behind him as they sneak around to the back of the ETU Arena. They weave through an open gate and creep along to a door that’s been propped open with a ballpoint pen.

“I would never get us in trouble,” Dean replies in a hushed tone. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’ve got connections.”

Sam rolls his eyes, stretching his neck to look around for other people. Dean reaches out from inside the arena and grabs the front of his jacket, pulling him inside. Sam hollers in surprise and Dean silences him with a hand over his mouth.

“Okay, we might get in a little trouble, so keep it down,” he whispers before replacing his hand with his lips. “I had to pay off the ice manager. Come on.”

He leads Sam through a boiler room and past a Zamboni towards the rink. Sam digs his heels in and Dean turns to him.

“No hustling, I promise, but I really don’t know how to skate,” Sam says, holding up his hands as he realizes what Dean has planned. Dean laughs, dragging Sam towards a small wooden bench by the door to the ice. He pushes down on Sam’s shoulders to make him sit and then lifts the duffel he was carrying off of his shoulder and sets its on the floor. “And how are we going to skate in the dark?”

“Here, just put these on. Make sure you tie them tight around your ankles,” he adds, handing Sam a pair of black hockey skates. Sam pulls the tongue back, trying to read the small label inside by the dim light of the emergency exit signs.

“How did you know what size I am?” he asks, looking up to see that Dean has disappeared. “Dean?”

“I’ll be right back!” he hears Dean’s disembodied voice echo through the arena. A moment later, lights pop on over the ice surface. Sam watches as Dean jogs around the rink towards him.

“Scoot.” Dean sits down next to Sam and pulls his own skates from the bag. They both bend, removing their shoes and pulling on the skates. Dean finishes tying his skates and looks over to see that Sam is tying his way too loose.

“Here, you’ll break an ankle if you don’t tie them tight enough,” he says, kneeling in front of Sam and pulling the laces tight. He wraps the long ends around Sam’s ankles for support. Standing, he holds his hands out. Sam places his hands in Dean’s and Dean pulls him up.

“How do they feel?” Dean aks, still holding Sam’s hands as he wobbles on the blades.

“Alright I think. Dean, I’m not sure about this,” Sam adds nervously, and looking into his eyes, Dean can tell he’s worried about stepping onto the ice.

“Okay, you’re gonna be fine. Walk around for a minute out here to get the feel and balance. Just stay on this rubber matting, okay? I’ll be right back.” Sam nods and Dean slowly backs away, letting go of his hands. Once he sees that Sam has his balance, he turns and pulls open the door to the ice surface. He skates across the surface to the time keeper’s box, pulling his phone from his pocket. Suddenly, Aerosmith is playing quietly over the sound system.

“Are you ready?” Dean asks as he comes to a stop at the door.

“I think so. Just don’t let me fall too much,” Sam adds, coming towards Dean, his hands out for balance.

“Of course not,” Dean tells him, reaching out to take one of Sam’s hands, holding him steady as he steps down onto the ice. “Okay, now just walk out here. Hold onto the wall with your other hand.”

Sam walks along next to the wall, hanging onto the wall with his right hand, squeezing the feeling from Dean’s fingers with his left. Slowly he picks up his pace, and a smile spreads across his face. “This isn’t so bad,” he tells Dean, peeking quickly at him from the corner of his eye before looking back down at his feet.

“Don’t look down, you’ll fall,” Dean says, reaching over and lifting Sam’s chin. “You’re doing great. Think you want to try skating now?”

“Yeah, I think so. I can still hold the wall, right?”

“No, not when you’re actually skating, it will throw off your balance. I’ll skate right in front of you, I won’t let you fall,” Dean adds, then pushes himself around to face Sam. “Okay, let go of the wall. Arms out, there, like that. Now balance your weight on your left foot, and push off with your right. Imagine you’re scraping the ice away from you on a diagonal.”

Dean glides backwards a foot to give Sam some room, but keeps his arms out in case Sam starts to fall forward. Sam hesitates, then follows Dean’s instructions, and manages to remain upright as he glides forward. His face breaks into a huge grin. He switches feet, and again glides forward without falling.

“Eyes on me, now.” Sam looks up to meet Dean’s eyes, and glides forward on his left foot. “Relax, Sammy, bend your knees a little. You have to be graceful, like a bird.”

“I’m a bird,” Sam says to himself, pushing off with his left foot and gliding towards Dean, who skates backwards just a little farther.

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” Dean quotes with a laugh.

“Did you just quote the no-” Sam starts, losing his concentration and hurtling forwards, his arms flapping wildly trying to maintain his upright position. Dean skates towards him trying to help, but its too late. Sam lands on top of him like a brick house. Sam pushes up slightly and looks down at Dean.

“Sorry!” he exclaims. The worried look in his eyes makes Dean burst into laughter, and soon Sam is laughing as well.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks, when Dean finally slows.

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m great. Are you?”

“Better than great, since I had a cushion to land on!”

“Hey!” Dean starts to protest, pretending offense, but Sam stops him with a press of his warm lips. Dean sighs, lifting his head from the ice to return the pressure. Sam’s hand comes to cradle the back of Dean’s head as his tongue presses between Dean’s teeth. Dean holds Sam’s face between his hands, tilting his head to give himself better access to Sam’s mouth. The cold of the ice on his back mixed with the heat of Sam on top of him, and that taste of honey on Sam’s lips has his head spinning.

Sam groans, pushing himself up so that his knee can bend to either side of Dean’s hips. Dean bends his knees slightly, scooting Sam up towards him more. Dean reaches up and unzips Sam’s jacket, sliding his hands underneath to clutch at his blue and gray striped shirt. He pulls Sam against his chest. Sam lifts himself, kissing along Dean’s jaw to his ear as he starts unbuttoning Dean’s plaid flannel. Dean moans as Sam nibbles on his earlobe, raising a breathy chuckle from Sam. Pulling up the back of Sam’s shirt, he runs his cold hands along Dean’s waist and up his spine, his fingers tingling.

Sam rubs his nose along Dean’s stubble before kissing him hard, once more plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Suddenly, Dean’s hands are in Sam’s hair, his fingers running through the soft locks over and over. Sam moans against his lips, and Dean can feel Sam’s pleasure against his stomach, as he’s sure Sam can feel his against his backside. The pressure in Dean’s pants from having Sam straddling him feels amazing, and he lifts his hips to increase it. Sam grins as he pulls open Dean’s shirt, revealing the thin black t-shirt underneath, and he wriggles from side to side, causing Dean to moan loudly.

“Shhh,” Sam tells him, holding a finger over Dean’s lips and beaming down at him. “We don’t want to get in trouble, remember?”

“Oh you’re already in trouble!” Dean tells him, tongue darting out to lick Sam’s finger.

“Mmm…” Sam moans, bending his head to kiss Dean again before pulling back.

“Do you want to try again?” Dean asks, brushing the hair out of Sam’s eyes with his fingers.

“I think I’ve had enough skating for one day, don’t you? Let’s get out of here.” They untangle themselves, pulling their shirts back into place and adjusting their erections inside their jeans. Dean stands, brushing the ice from his ass.

“You might have to help me up. Or better yet, just drag me out of here,” Sam tells him, lying flat on his back on the ice, arms and legs sliding back and forth like a snow angel.

Dean laughs, hands on his knees. He bends over, grabs a hold of Sam’s hand, and helps him to stand shakily.

“Just bend your knees and hold on to my hands,” Dean says, then skates backwards, dragging Sam from the ice. “I gotcha.”

 

 

           Two mugs of hot coffee and a couple warm showers later, Dean lays in Sam’s bed, watching Sam brush his teeth through the open bathroom door. Sam glances over at him and grins. Sam finishes, then saunters over to the bed, pulling off his t-shirt and tossing in the general direction of his laundry hamper. He slides under the covers next to Dean but leans against the headboard, pulling the comforter up to his hips.

“Dean, can I talk to you about something?”

“Absolutely, Sammy, what’s up?” Dean replies, rolling over onto his back and putting his hands behind his head. Sam nervously picks at the seam of the blanket.

“Umm,” he starts, then shakes his head a little before starting again. “Well, remember when we were hanging out with Cas and Meg, and, uh, we talked about how I’d never had a boyfriend or anything?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean says, turning his head slightly to glance up at Sam.

“So, I guess what I’m trying to bring up without being weird about it, is that, umm,” he stops again. “Fuck. I’m a virgin, okay?”

Dean scoots up, leaning against the headboard next to Sam. He reaches over and takes Sam’s hand from the comforter, lacing their fingers together. “Of course it’s okay.”

“It’s just that I know you’ve had a boyfriend and I assume you guys had sex but I haven’t done any of that.”

“I understand, and I hope you don’t feel like I’m pressuring you or anything. I really don’t mean to be like that.”

“No, it’s not that. I want to have sex with you. I just don’t know exactly what I’m doing. Let’s just say there isn’t much sex in the Sex Ed program at my school.”

Dean reaches over and tries to pull Sam’s face around so he can see him. “Hey, Sammy, look at me.” Sam finally looks over and meets Dean’s eyes. “We can go as slow as you want to. I would never do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I want you to know that. I promise that it’s okay, and that whatever you want to do, I’m here for you.”

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it. I’m here for you,” he emphasizes, pressing his hand to Sam’s chest. “Not for sex, or anything else. I care about you a lot, Sam.”

Sam smiles, his dimples deepening and his nose crinkling.

“Thanks Dean, that means a lot to me.”

Dean pulls Sam towards him with his fingers under Sam’s chin and kisses him softly. Sam blushes as he pulls away, and runs his hand through his hair nervously.

“Well, that was pretty awkward, right? Sorry, I just felt like I needed to tell you that. I’m ready for bed,” he adds, chuckling and pushing his hand through his hair a second time.

“I’m glad you told me,” Dean replies nonchalantly, sliding down into the bed again. Sam slides down next to him and Dean scoots his arm behind Sam’s neck. Sam turns towards him and drags his fingertip around Dean’s chest, tracing the tattooed tentacles as they circle his nipple.

“Thanks, Dean,” he whispers, then turns away and reaches over to switch of the lamp. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Sammy.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the spot where the piece rating changed from Teen to Explicit. In this chapter, fluff becomes smut as Sam and Dean have sex for the first time.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” Dean says, walking into the living room where Cas is lounging on the couch, cradling a beer. Cas looks up, giving Dean’s outfit a once over. He let’s out a low whistle.

“Damn, you look good,” Cas proclaims, dragging out the words sarcastically.

Dean peers at him skeptically, stepping in front of the mirror on the coat closet. “Don’t objectify me,” he adds. Cas chokes on his beer. Laughing he stands and comes over to lean against the wall next to Dean. 

“I can’t figure this stupid thing out,” Dean grumbles, trying in vain to tie his bowtie. “Why couldn’t they just give me a clip on or something?”

“Because they save those for the children,” Cas tells him, grinning. “Here, I’ll do it.”

Dean lifts his chin so that Cas can get at the bowtie. His fingers expertly maneuver the knot and he adjusts it into place. Pausing, Cas looks up at Dean.

“Are you humming Metallica?”

“It calms me down. Shut up,” he adds as Cas chuckles. “How the hell do you know how to tie a bowtie?”

Cas steps back to admire his handiwork. Dean catches his reflection and nods approvingly.

“Meg used to do all that debutante stuff in high school. I couldn’t count the number of formal balls I had to wear a monkey suit for,” Cas says with a shrug. “Why are you so nervous? You look fine.”

“Shit, I don’t know. This is kind of a big deal for Sam. And that Uriel guy is gonna be there, he apparently doesn’t like gay guys. Knowing my luck, I’ll be sitting right next to him for dinner.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. What time is Sam supposed to pick you up?”

Almost as if on cue, there’s a knock on the door.

“Now, I guess,” Dean replies, fidgeting with his hair in the mirror as Cas opens the door. He turns as Sam steps over the threshold. “Wow, look at you. Who knew they made tuxes for giants?”

“You’re hilarious. But yeah, I had to get this tailored,” Sam admits, rolling his eyes. “You look good, Dean. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Dean grumbles, slapping Cas on the shoulder as he follows Sam out the door. Sam stops in the hall and turns to face Dean, waiting as he pulls the door shut behind him. He steps forward, his hand coming up to stroke the silk lapel of Dean’s jacket.

“I meant it, you know. You look great,” he says, leaning down slightly to press a soft kiss to Dean’s mouth. He feels Dean’s lips twitch into a smile under his.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean says as Sam pulls away. “You look perfect.” He laces his fingers into Sam’s and follows him out to his truck. They hold hands as Sam drives to the banquet hall.

  
  


Walking through the front entrance of the hall, Dean feels his palms start to sweat. Sam glances back at him and smiles. He reaches back for Dean’s hand. Coach Henriksen is standing at the entrance to the dining room with his wife. Sam stops in front of them, shaking hands with his coach.

“Coach, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Coach Victor Henriksen.”

“Oh, I know who Dean is. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things from Singer. This is my wife, Erica,” Coach adds, gesturing to his wife, who smiles and shakes hands with Sam and Dean.

“Nice to meet you, too, sir, ma’am,” Dean says with a smile.

“There’s nametags on the tables. Better find your seats, I guess we’re starting soon,” Coach tells them before turning to another couple of baseball players walking in with their girlfriends. Dean recognizes Garth and turns to wave before heading into the dining room with Sam. Round tables are scattered around the room, with a podium up on a small stage against the back wall. It looks like the exact same setup that the hockey team uses for the end of the year dinner, Dean realizes.

Adam waves to them from the far side of the room, then heads towards them, pulling his date along by her hand. Amanda is a petite blonde, and she’s wearing a floor length silk gown with vines curling up the side.

“Hey guys, what’s up? Amanda, this is Sam Remington, my roommate, and his boyfriend Dean Winchester,” Adam introduces. “Guys, this is Amanda LeBranche. She plays the flute in the marching band.”

They exchange handshakes and nice-to-meet-you’s before they excuse themselves to find refreshments. Sam and Dean wander between the tables, looking for their names, shaking hands and making introductions with various members of Sam’s team. Finally they locate their places, and Dean notices with relief that Uriel is not seated at their table.  They take their seats, and are soon joined by Garth and his date, Bess Myers, who sit to Sam’s left. Adam and Amanda sit on Dean’s right. Across the table, another couple Dean doesn’t recognize takes their seats.

“That’s Gavin, and his girlfriend Amelia. Hey Gav, Amy, this is my boyfriend, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean stands up slightly to shake hands with Gavin as he leans across the table. Amelia smiles and waves.

Coach Henriksen takes the podium, and the room grows quiet as he launches into his pre-series speech. Once again, the team is vying for the national championship. The crowd listens attentively, and they burst into applause when Coach has finished speaking. Dinner is served by teenagers in dress shirts and bowties. Dean has the steak while Sam has the salmon. The meal passes mostly in silence as everyone enjoys the delicious food.

After dinner, everyone mingles around, drinking bottled beer or glasses of wine from the open bar. Dean stands with Garth, Adam, and Amanda by the bar, chatting about this class or that. He watches Sam talking to the Campbell brothers across the room. Sam sees him watching out of the corner of his eye and gives him a small smile. Dean admires the way Sam’s tanned skin contrasts brilliantly with his white smile. His heart flutters a bit as he watches Sam throw his head back, laughing at something someone said. Sam’s hair flops down into his eyes, and he pushes a hand through it, making Dean chuckle.

“Yo, earth to Dean?” Garth repeats, waving his hand into Dean’s eyeline.

“Shit, sorry.”

Garth just looks at him, laughing. He shakes his head, before repeating what he’d been trying to ask Dean. “So are you and Sam official now?”

“Uh, yeah, as of last week,” Dean replies, grinning as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Cool. You guys look good together,” Adam says, and Garth nods his agreement. “You should come hang out sometime. I know Uriel was kind of a douche, but he’s rarely over.”

“Yeah, man, I will. Thanks,” Dean replies, giving Adam an appreciative nod. “See ya later, guys.” He starts toward Sam at the same time Sam turns and heads toward him. They meet in the center of the room.

“Ready to get out of here?” Sam asks, and Dean nods.

  
  


Back at Dean’s, they sneak quietly into the apartment before realizing that Cas and Meg aren’t home.

“They must be at Meg’s place,” Dean shrugs, kicking off his dress shoes by the door. He leads Sam down the hall to his room by the hand, and closes the door. Sam blushes as he undoes his bowtie and shrugs off his jacket, hanging both over the chair in the corner of Dean’s room. Dean yanks off his bowtie and tosses it on the dresser, then lays his jacket on top of Sam’s.

“Do you play?” Sam asks as he untucks his shirt, nodding at the guitar propped up on a stand next to the chair.

“Yeah, umm, sometimes. Yeah.” Dean turns scarlet as he unbuttons the collar of his dress shirt.

“Will you play something for me?”

“Really?” Dean looks over at Sam, who nods. “Uh, sure, yeah I guess I could.”

Dean picks up the guitar and sits down on the chair, settling the body on his thigh and strumming his fingers lightly across the strings.

“What do you want to hear?” he asks Sam, who’s sitting on his bed, ankles crossed, leaning against the headboard.

“Anything.”

Dean cracks his neck, then rubs it with his hand. Taking a deep breath, he begins to play, softly at first, but gaining power as his confidence rises. Glancing up at Sam briefly through his lashes, he sees Sam is smiling softly as he watches. Dean begins to sing...

“Well I heard there was a secret chord,

that David played and it pleased the Lord.

But you don't really care for music, do you?

Well it goes like this:

The fourth, the fifth,

The minor fall and the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah..”

Dean looks up to see Sam beaming at him, and he feels the blush start to creep up his cheeks, but he continues to sing.

“Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to her kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah...”

As Sam sits there, watching Dean play and listening to his gravely, deep voice, he thinks to himself that he’s never heard anything so beautiful. He feels the tears start to run down his cheeks without realizing they were coming. He wipes them quickly with his fingers before Dean can see them.

“Baby I've been here before

I've seen this room and I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch

and love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah…”

Dean smiles at Sam as he sings, his fingers dancing over the strings. He can’t remember the last time he actually played for someone.

“There was a time when you let me know

What's really going on below

But now you never show that to me, do you?

But remember when I moved in you

And the holy dove was moving too

And every breath we drew was Hallelujah...”

Sam is mesmerized by the raw emotion he sees in Dean’s eyes as he glances up. Sam bites his lip, trying to keep his emotions in check. The dim lighting from the bedside lamp casts shadows across Dean’s face, emphasizing his strong jaw and the 5 o’clock shadow there. The open collar of his dress shirt shows the muscles of his tanned throat rippling as he sings.

“Maybe there's a God above

But all I've ever learned from love

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

And it's not a cry that you hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah…”

Dean looks up and meets Sam’s eyes as he finishes the last lines of the song. His cheeks burn red, but he is smiling. Sam chews on his lip, beaming. His eyes shine with unshed tears. Feeling embarrassed, he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Wow, Dean. That was…” he stops, his voice choking slightly. He coughs before continuing. “You should play professionally.”

Dean chuckles, setting the guitar back on its stand, “ah, definitely not. Nope.” He stands, and Sam follows suit, coming to a stop in front of Dean. He cups Dean’s face between his hands and kisses him softly.

“Thank you. For playing. For being you.”

Dean doesn’t answer, instead pressing into Sam, taking Sam’s lips with his own and kissing him long and hard. Sam sighs, and Dean pushes his tongue between Sam’s open lips, tilting his head. His hands come up to rest on Sam’s against his cheeks, before they run down the lengths of Sam’s arms, clutching at Sam’s elbows to pull him closer.

Sam wraps one arm around Dean’s waist, his hand fisting in the back of Dean’s shirt. Dean runs his hands through Sam’s hair and cups the back of his neck. They both breathe heavily, sharing air as they kiss.

Suddenly, Sam stops, and steps back slightly, but keeps his hand on Dean’s cheek and hip. Dean looks at him quizzically.

“I love you,” Sam says, staring into Dean’s eyes hopefully. Dean rubs the pad of his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone.

“I love you too, Sammy.”

Sam pulls him close once more and kisses him through his smile. Then he steps back once more, looking down to find Dean’s hand, and taking it. He pulls Dean towards the bed, then spins him around and shoves him backwards lightly. Dean falls back onto his ass on the bed, and Sam follows quickly, laying Dean flat and kneeling overtop of him. He kisses Dean fiercely, reaching between them to unbutton Dean’s shirt. Dean stops him, holding both of Sam’s hands in his own.

“Are you sure?” he asks, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Dean grins, letting go of Sam’s hands to blaze his own trail down Sam’s buttons. They laugh as Dean struggles out of his shirt, Sam pushing it over his shoulders before Dean does the same to him. Sam reaches down between his legs to unclasp Dean’s belt, pushing Dean’s pants down with his hands and feet. They bump heads as Dean struggles with Sam’s belt buckle. Laughing, Sam helps him, then wriggles out his pants. They both crawl up the bed to get under the covers, and Dean rolls on top of Sam, his hands coming up to fist in Sam’s hair as they kiss, tongues wrestling and exploring each other.

Dean pulls Sam’s undershirt up and runs his hands along Sam’s sides. Sam wriggles, laughing against Dean’s mouth. Dean sits up, straddling Sam, and pulls his undershirt off with one hand, just the way Sam likes. He can feel Sam’s erection grow against the crack of his ass. Dean purposely bucks his hips, rubbing his ass along the length of Sam’s erection, which twitches and pulses beneath him. Sam meets his gaze, his eyes hooded with lust.

Sam runs his finger along the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs, eyeing the bulge underneath the tight fabric. Nervously, he pulls against the waistband. Dean pauses, letting Sam have control of the situation. Sam bites his lip, then tugs down, freeing Dean’s erection. He wraps his hand around the shaft, runs his fingers along it softly. Dean rubs Sam’s forearm, smiling at him encouragingly. Sam explores Dean’s cock, rubbing up and down his shaft as Dean grows harder in his palm. He increases the pressure and speed of his fist, drawing a moan from Dean’s throat. Dean’s hips buck involuntarily, and Sam grins. Dean runs his hands through his hair as Sam strokes him. He suddenly feels the pressure start to build and he leans down to kiss Sam and he lifts himself off Sam’s lap.

“Tell me if this is okay,” Dean whispers, before sliding himself down Sam’s body and kneeling between Sam’s knees. Slowly, Dean hooks his fingers inside the band of Sam’s boxers, and begins sliding them down. Sam lifts his hips so that Dean can slide them past his ass, and then lifts each leg in turn as Dean pulls them all the way off, dropping them on the floor beside the bed.

Dean’s breath comes heavy as he takes Sam’s cock in his hand, rubbing up and down the shaft as it starts to grow hard. He meets Sam’s eyes as he lowers his head and sucks Sam’s head into his mouth. Sam moans loudly, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. His fist opens and closes around a handful of Dean’s sheets. Dean continues his ministrations, sucking and licking the tip of Sam’s cock, running his tongue up the vein on the underside of his head. Sam’s breathing becomes faster as sweat beads on his chest and forehead. He moans loudly, rubbing his hands down the side of his stomach before they fist in Dean’s hair. His hips lift off the bed involuntarily, seeking pleasure. Dean takes Sam’s length into his mouth, stroking the length of him with his lips. Sam gasps, his thighs trembling under Dean’s hands.

“Oh god,” Sam breathes out as Dean takes him again. Dean moans with Sam in his throat, the vibrations making Sam’s breath catch. “Dean wait, I don’t want to…” he stops with a groan as Dean swallows, the muscles of his throat rippling against Sam’s head. “Stop, Dean, wait…”

As soon as Sam says stop, Dean backs off, sitting back on his heels.

“Sorry, shit, are you okay?” he asks, worried.

“Yeah, oh god, I’m great. I just don’t want to finish yet,” Sam blurts out in a rush. Dean sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“No, definitely not, everything about that was… right.”

Dean smiles at him, and Sam sits up, reaching to take Dean’s face in his hands. He kisses him, tongue sweeping between his lips, and tastes himself on Dean’s mouth. Dean pulls back, resting his forehead against Sam’s.

“Turn over.”

Sam rolls over onto his stomach, and turns his head to watch as Dean reaches over and opens the nightstand drawer. He pulls out a small bottle of lubrication and a condom, both of which he sets down on the bed next to Sam. He then settles down between Sam’s knees again. Dean rubs his hands over the smooth skin of Sam’s cheeks, pressing them open slightly. He bends, wetting his lips, and wipes his tongue across Sam’s tight hole. Sam gasps, and Dean looks up.

“Is this okay?”

“Fuck, yes,” Sam breathes, pushing his face into the pillow in his arms.

Dean bends again, and kisses Sam’s right cheek. He feels Sam’s laughter under his hands, which stops abruptly as he swipes his tongue between his cheeks again. Sam moans into the pillow as Dean runs his tongue around Sam’s asshole, and he clenches his cheeks together.

“Sammy, you gotta relax,” Dean says softly, rubbing his hand down the back of Sam’s thigh. Sam sighs, and visibly relaxes his muscles. Dean reaches for the bottle of lube, and opens it, squeezing some onto his finger. He rubs it over Sam’s hole, then switches to his pinky.

“Okay, you’re gonna feel some pressure. Just stay relaxed, okay?” Dean tells Sam, who nods. He slowly presses against Sam with his pinky, sliding it in slowly to the second knuckle. “Please tell me when it’s not okay, or when it hurts. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, just don’t stop,” is Sam’s breathless reply, as he turns his head to look at Dean, raising up off the mattress as he turns. “I’ll tell you if I can’t handle something, I promise.”

Dean nods, and Sam lays back down on his stomach. Dean feels him relax, and pushes his little finger all the way into Sam. He slides it out briefly before pressing back in. Sam sighs, and relaxes some more. Dean pulls his little finger out, and, adding more lube, presses into Sam with his first finger. Sam moans at the increase of pressure. Dean fucks Sam with his finger, bending his head to kiss and nip at Sam’s hip. Sam groans and wriggles under him.

Slowly, he relaxes as Dean thrusts his finger in and out. He reaches for the lube once more, and squeezes some onto his middle finger before he adds it. Sam moans loudly as Dean presses both fingers into his hole. He alternates between thrusting and scissoring his fingers, Sam relaxing more with each stroke. Curling his fingers slightly, he rubs against Sam’s prostate. Dean feels Sam’s hips buck as he rubs himself against the sheets, and Dean adds a third finger. Sam presses back against him as Dean fucks him with one hand, stroking himself with the other. He clutches his cock tightly in his fist as Sam writhes in front him.

“I’m ready Dean, please,” Sam utters between breaths, his hips rocking back and forth.

“Alright,” Dean replies, just as breathless. He kicks his boxers the rest of the way off and reaches for the condom. He rips open the wrapper with his teeth and pulls out the condom, rolling it down his length. Dripping more lube onto the head of his penis, he kneels between Sam’s legs. “Ready?” he asks again to be sure.

“Yes,” Sam whispers, fists clutching the sheets by his head.

Dean presses the head of his cock against Sam’s hole, pushing against him until Sam opens up and takes him in with a gasp. Slowly he slides in, pulling back before pressing forward again. He feels Sam’s muscles clench around him when he’s about halfway in.

“Relax, baby,” Dean whispers against Sam’s shoulder, and Sam does. Dean pushes in further, slowly stretching Sam around him. Dean starts a slow pace, thrusting gently in and out. Sam’s breathing picks up as his pleasure grows, even with the pain.

Sam grins as he reaches over his shoulder to wrap his hand around the back of Dean’s neck. He presses back against Dean, the pain and pleasure mixing together in his head to give him a buzz. Dean holds himself up off Sam as he thrusts his hips, slowly at first, picking up the pace as Sam adjusts around him.

“God, I love you,” he breathes against Sam’s shoulder, biting the tanned skin and then licking the marks as Sam’s breath hitches.

“I love you too,” Sam whispers. Dean smiles, then pauses, still inside Sam, and uses both hands to lift Sam up onto his knees. Sam holds himself up as Dean begins thrusting again, reaching around to take Sam’s cock in his hand. He strokes Sam in rhythm with his thrusts, and Sam grows rock hard in his hand. Sam pants, moans, and swears under his breath as Dean fucks him, urging Dean to go faster. Dean complies, pounding into Sam and picking up the rhythm of his stroking to match.

Their breathing picks up, Sam’s back pressing against Dean’s chest with each inhale, and soon Dean is sweating, the pressure building in his balls. Sam pushes a hand against the wall for leverage as Dean pounds into him, his other hand supporting both their weight as Dean jacks him off.

“Dean… I’m going… to…” Sam pants out.

“Come for me, Sammy,” Dean groans, fucking into him. He twists his hips, trying to find Sam’s prostate. He jerks him faster, and soon Sam is coming undone in his hands.

Sam shouts as he comes, shooting ejaculate all over the sheets under him, Dean catching some in his hand. Dean continues to stroke him gently as he thrusts inside him, and Sam moans. Then Sam reaches back to cup Dean’s balls, and rolls them gently in his palm. With that touch, Dean comes, thrusting through his climax inside Sam. He collapses on top of Sam, and Sam rolls to the side, taking Dean with him. Groaning, Dean pulls out and then wraps his arms and legs around Sam, and Sam laughs.

“That was,” Sam starts, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck, Dean, that was great.”

“Mmhmm,” Dean mumbles against the back of Sam’s neck, making Sam laugh harder. “You’re great,” he whispers, his eyes already starting to get droopy.

“No sleeping yet,” Sam says, rolling over in Dean’s arms. He grasps Dean’s chin with one hand. “Wake up sleepy, we gotta clean up first.”

Dean slowly opens his eyes, a big goofy grin on his face. “Mmkay, Sammy.” He unwraps himself from around Sam and rolls himself off the bed, catching himself before his face hits the carpet. He stands with a groan and pads into the bathroom, removing and flushing the condom. Cleaning himself off with a hand towel, he grabs a clean one for Sam. When he pokes his head back into the bedroom, he sees Sam has stripped the dirty sheet from his bed. He hands Sam the towel before he crosses to his closet and pulls out a fresh sheet. They pull it down over the mattress together before Dean collapses on top of it.

Laughing, Sam tosses a pillow onto Dean’s head. Dean grabs at it, lifting his head momentarily to stick the pillow under it. Sam throws the comforter over him, then grabs himself a pillow and crawls across the bed. He plants a trail of kisses along an octopus tentacle on Dean’s shoulders, then lays down next to him, sliding his legs under the cover. His arm stretches across Dean’s back, and he hooks his leg over Dean’s.

Dean turns onto his side to face him, opening one eye slowly. He snakes one arm underneath Sam’s pillow smiling dreamily as he holds Sam’s face in his other hand. “Love you.”

“Love you, too”

“Goodnight, Sammy.” Dean leans over and kisses Sam softly.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes, and Sam stretches his neck to kiss Dean’s forehead. Almost immediately, Dean’s mouth pops open in a silent ‘oh’ and Sam knows he’s fast asleep. Sam lays his head down at watches Dean sink deeper and deeper into sleep, listens to his breath hitch and even out. He’s unsure if its minutes or hours later, but Sam’s eyelids grow heavy and he smiles in satisfaction as he slips slowly into dreamland.


	10. Chapter 10

          Dean stands at the stove in Sam's tiny kitchen, stirring a large pot of sauce and meatballs. Sam sits on the counter behind him, and reaches out with his foot to lighlty kick Dean's ass.  
          "So guess what?" he asks, setting his empty beer can next to him in the sink.  
          "Hmm?" Dean replies, turning towards him with a spoonful of sauce. He comes to stand between Sam's legs and offers him a taste. As Sam bends his neck, Dean leans back and takes the mouthful for himself. Sam laughs, then pouts, and Dean kisses him, nibbling on his lower lip.  
          "Tastes good," Sam tells him with a wink. "Are you going to guess?"  
          "Ah, you got drafted by the NBA to hold up the net?" Dean guesses playfully. "No wait, they've asked you to report for channel four how the weather really is up there?" Dean cackles at his own jokes. "Oh, no I've got it. You found a little nest of baby bird eggs in that mop of yours, and you've decided to raise them as your own?"  
          Dean bends over laughing, slapping his knee, his face turning red as he struggles to breathe. Sam kicks out with his feet, wrapping them around Dean's waist and pulling him between his knees. Sam winds his arm around Dean's neck to hold him steady, then runs his hands through Dean's perfectly gelled hair.  
          "Oh man, not the hair!" Dean laughs out, holding onto Sam's knees as he struggles to maintain upright. Sam wraps his other arm around Dean's chest and holds him up, biting at the back of Dean's neck and ears.  
          "Okay, really, what's up?" Dean asks as he regains his composure, leaning back against Sam's chest.  
          "My parents are coming to visit."  
          Dean turns around in Sam's arms. "When?"  
          "This weekend."  
          "That's great!"  
          "And I want you to meet them," Sam says, meeting Dean's gaze.  
          "Oh okay. Awesome. I'd like that," Dean agrees, rubbing his hands along Sam's calves, which are still wrapped around his hips. "I have that game Saturday though."  
          "I thought maybe we could all get an early dinner, and then we'll come watch you play?" Sam replies against the side of Dean's neck. Shivers run up Dean's spine at the tickling of Sam's lips on his skin.  
          "Perfect. Now let me go before we end up eating Ragu from a jar," Dean admonishes, slapping Sam's shins. Sam laughs as he releases his hold. Dean goes back to stirring the pasta sauce as Sam jumps down from the counter to get them both another beer.  
          The door to the apartment opens wide, and Garth and Adam walk in, still dressed in dirty t-shirts and shorts from practice. They drop their bags by the couch and sniff the air appreciatively.  
          "Hey guys," Sam greets his roommates.  
          "What's up, hey Dean!" Garth and Adam reply, and Garth comes into the kitchen to look over Dean's shoulder. "What's for dinner?"  
          "Who said you were invited, you caveman?" Sam asks, whacking Garth playfully on the back of his head.  
          "I'm making spaghetti and meatballs, and anyone can have some," Dean adds, giving Sam a look. Sam laughs before hopping up onto the counter to re-establish his role as supervisor extraordinaire.  
          "Sounds great," Adam tells Dean as he heads down the hall towards the bathroom. "Do I have time to shower?"  
          "Yes, please," Dean replies, wrinkling his nose.  
          "Yeah, you stink like a dirty jockstrap," Garth bursts into laughter, following Adam down the hall and turning into his own room. "Hurry up though, so do I."  
          Sam laughs as the guys duck into their rooms to clean up. Dean dumps a bag of raw spaghetti into a big pot of boiling water.

          Soon they are gathered around the table, twirling spaghetti on their forks before shoving mouthfuls of pasta into their mouths. Garth has a meatball speared on the end of his fork, which he is using to gesticulate as they talk about sports and recent movies they'd seen.  
          Dean smiles as the conversation flows. He isn't sure why he was so nervous to hang out with Sam's roommates. Both Adam and Garth treat Dean like one of the guys, and there doesn't seem to be any awkwardness because he and Sam are together.  
          After dinner Garth pops in the latest James Bond movie, and the guys lounge on the couches. Sam leans against Dean's side, his legs kicked over the armrest of the couch. His left arm lays between Dean's legs, his hand stroking lazily from Dean's knee to his ankle and back up again. Adam sits on Dean's other side, on the other couch, his feet up on the coffee table. Garth sits next to him, his posture the same, with a beer balanced with one hand on his thigh. The atmosphere between the four of them is that of friends, no weird boyfriend treatment. Dean grins down at Sam, feeling completely at ease.

          "How do I look?" Dean asks, checking his hair in Sam's bathroom mirror.  
          "You look fine, stop worrying," Sam replies nonchalantly from his lounging position on the bed, his nose buried in a Charles Dickens novel. Dean gives an exasperated sigh, and Sam holds his finger to mark his place before he looks up. "Dean, seriously. You don't need to worry. They're going to love you."  
          Dean turns back to the mirror and adjusts his red plaid shirt, making sure the sleeves are rolled up neatly and the wrinkles smoothed out. He runs his hands through his hair again, checking for misplaced spikes, then smooths out his jeans.  
          "Relax, babe," Sam whispers in his ear, suddenly appearing in the mirror behind him. He wraps his arms around Dean's middle and kisses the sensitive skin behind his ear. Dean leans back against him momentarily, but pulls away when Sam sucks lightly on his earlobe.  
          "Don't give me a boner, you're parents are gonna be here any minute!" Dean admonishes, pressing down against the crotch of his pants to remove any invisible evidence of his arousal. The buzzer sounds, indicating his parents are in the lobby of the apartment building. "Shit."  
          "You'll be fine. I won't let my dad beat on you too hard." Sam winks at Dean's annoyed expression on his way to the door. He buzzes his parents up, then pulls open the apartment door to wait for them to come up the elevator.  
          Dean comes down the hallway to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room, digging his hands into his pockets before remembering his mother telling him what bad manners that was. He sighs again, shifting his weight from foot to foot and trying not to fidget. Sam gives him a soft smile over his shoulder as the elevator pings open down the hall.  
          A moment later, Sam is nearly knocked backwards as a head full of blonde hair buries itself in his chest. He laughs, wrapping his arms around the woman, who barely comes up to his shoulders.  
          "Hi, Mom." She pulls back and gives Sam the stereotypical Mom once-over, cupping his face in her hands and looking up at him.  
          "Hi, baby!" She stands on her tiptoes to give Sam a kiss on his increasingly red cheek.  
          "Mom, stop that. Hey, Dad," he adds, wrapping his Dad in a bear hug. His father is built strong, Dean notices, though not as tall as Sam, he guessed him to be around 6'3. With a scruffy black beard to match his black hair, and huge muscles straining his Army Strong t-shirt, Dean decides he's never going to get on this guy's bad side. Sam's mother is a strong looking woman as well, her blue short-sleeved t-shirt showing off lean, muscled arms. Her long blonde hair waved past her shoulders. She wore nice jeans and small, tan work boots.  
          Sam steps back and gestures for Dean to come closer. Smiling politely, Dean comes over to stand next to Sam.  
          "Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Dean Winchester," Sam introduces, and Sam's father looks unfazed as he reaches forward to shake Dean's hand. "Dean, these are my parents, John and Mary Remington." Mary smiles brightly, throwing her arms around Dean and hugging him.  
          "It's so nice to finally meet you!" Mary exclaimed, releasing Dean and stepping back to smile up at him.  
          "It's nice to meet you, too," Dean grinned at both her and John. Dean could tell that Sam got his lean build from Mary, but he definitely got his height from John. Sam's eyes were a mix between Mary's bright blue, and John's hazel brown and green. John beamed at Sam before turning to Dean.  
          "So you've got a big game tonight?" he asked as Sam closed the door behind them and they all moved further into the apartment.  
          "Sam, sweetie, let me see your room!" Mary asked, then followed Sam down the hall, leaving Dean and John in the living room.  
          "Uh, yeah, it's the regional championship, to determine who goes to the National playoffs," Dean tells John, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously.  
          "You think y'all have a chance at National Champs?"  
          "I sure hope so. We won last year, and we're hoping to get there again this year. We only lost two players from last year's roster to graduation, so we've still got a pretty strong team." John and Dean both sit on opposite couches, John relaxing back into the cushions and crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. Dean sits forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, and he hopes he doesn't look too nervous as John evaluates him.  
          "So how long have you and Sam been dating?" John asks, although Dean is sure he knows the answer. He knows that Sam calls Mary at least once a week to chat.  
          "Since the beginning of the year. A couple weeks now, officially."  
          "Well that's great. He sure seems to like you."  
          "I like him, too, sir."  
          "You don't have to call me sir. I'm not in the Army anymore," John tells Dean, laughing to himself as Dean blushes. "But remember, I know my way around a gun."  
          "I wouldn't dare forget," Dean admits, and John laughs harder.  
          "John, don't be an ass," Mary scolds as she walks back into the living room, Sam behind her. "Let's go get something to eat? It's nearly five, and Sam said your game is at seven?"  
          "Yes, ma'am," Dean replies, both he and John standing from the couch. "I have to be at the rink by six-thirty to get ready."  
          "There's a burger place a couple blocks from here?" Sam asks, and everyone nods. "Alright, let's hit it."

          Dean sits in the locker room tying his skates. Dinner had gone surprisingly well. At least, better than Dean had expected. Sam was right, he had nothing to worry about. John and Mary seemed very accepting of their son's sexuality, and of Dean. Much more accepting than Dean's parents had been. His father still blatantly ignored any indication that Dean was gay. He wasn't mean or rude, but pretended to be completely oblivious, which hurt Dean's feelings just as much. His little sister, Joanna, was the most accepting.  
          "Hey man, how was dinner?" Cas asks, looking over from down the bench where he had just finished lacing up his skates.  
          "Right, Meet the Parents dinner, I almost forgot," Gabe adds, coming over to sit beside Dean as he pulls his jersey over his pads.  
          "Yeah, it was good. His mom's great, she's really nice."  
          "And his dad?" Cas asks, raising an eyebrow.  
          "Terrifying as hell. But he seems nice enough, too," Dean replies with a shrug. "They're both totally cool with the whole gay kid thing."  
          "Better than your parents," Cas scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I still can't believe they thought I was your boyfriend."  
          "Yeah that was pretty nuts," Dean admits, pulling his laces taught.  
          "Like you could ever get a guy as hot as me," Cas sighs, making both Dean and Gabe choke with laughter. "What? I'm a total catch!"  
          "Of course you are, Cas," Dean tells him, still laughing as he reaches for his jersey.  
          "Hey, you guys still having people over tonight?"  
          "Yeah, if we win. If we lose, I'll be too busy consoling Cas as he cries on my shoulder," Dean tells Gabe.  
          "Hey, Hunters, you hear that?!" Cas shouts as the guys all head for the door. "We better not lose then!" he yells, and the locker room erupts into chants and shouting as they get pumped for their game. Dean leads the team down the hallway and onto the ice for warm-ups. The crowd is already packed into the arena, and the cheering begins and the team circles their end of the ice.  
          Thanks to Dean needing to be early, Sam and his parents managed to get great seats, just behind the Hunters bench. Mary waves as Dean circles past, and he grins, raising his glove.  
          The game is intense. Coach Singer has to yell at as twice after he gets penalties for roughing. With six minutes left in the game, the Hunters are tied with the New Mexico State Aggies with 4 goals each.  
          The crowd is screaming as the Hunters take the puck. Cas checks one of the defensemen out of Gabe's way and they tear down the ice. Gabe passes to Dean, who knocks it back to Zeke. Dodging another defenseman, he passes to Cas. They skate furiously towards the net, and Cas passes up to Dean. Seeing his opportunity, Dean maneuvers his way past the last defenseman, and manages to flip the puck up into the net over the goalie's right shoulder.  
          Pumping his stick in the air as he circles around behind the net, he near goes deaf with the noise from the crowd. Cas suddenly appears in front of him and slams him into a hug, followed closely by Gabe, Zeke, and the rests of the team as they swarm out of the bench and onto the ice.  
          Queen's We Are the Champions blared from the sound system, and Dean catches a glimpse of Sam and his parents cheering from the stands. He laughs as Meg runs down from higher in the stands and wraps Sam in a hug, both of them cheering. Sam turns to introduce his parents as the team swallows Dean in again, chanting 'PLAYOFFS' at the tops of their lungs.

          Half an hour later, the team straggles out of the locker room. Dean hoists his bag over his shoulder, seemingly unable to wipe the huge grin off his face. His team is heading to playoffs, with him as captain, his best friends beside him, and his boyfriend in the stands. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and pulls at the front of his soaked t-shirt. Exiting the locker room, he sees Sam standing at the end of the hallway. Sam beams at him before wrapping him in a hug.  
          "That was amazing! Great game, babe!" Sam pulls away slightly, pushing a hand through his hair and looking around, slapping Cas's high five as he passes. Dean bites his lip, then reaches up to grasp the back of Sam's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. Sam doesn't mind the sweat as he kisses him back, tasting the salt on his lips. "Playoffs!" Sam exclaims excitedly.  
          "Damn right!" Dean replies just as enthusiastically, laughing.  
          "Does that mean it's playoff beard time?" Sam asks, scratching at the scruff on Dean's cheek.  
          "Yeah, it's tradition. No more shaving until we win."  
          "Good, I like it." Sam admits, giving Dean another chaste kiss on the corner of his smile. "We gotta say goodbye to my parents, they're heading back to the hotel."  
          "Do you want to raincheck on tonight? It's cool if you want to go hang with them."  
          "No it's okay, they're just going to sleep. I'm having breakfast with them tomorrow before they leave," Sam tells him, taking Dean's stick and leaning against it. "Besides, I can't miss my boyfriend's celebration. He is the MVP, you know."

          Dean has never seen so many people in such a small apartment. Every guy from the team, most of their girlfriends or boyfriends, and a large number of friends are packed into Dean and Cas's apartment. Two kegs in buckets of ice are on the balcony, and an assortment of liquor bottles are scattered across the kitchen counter. Red Solo cups decorate every available surface.  
          Dean notices Sam and Meg on the balcony, Sam leaning against the railing as Meg fills her cup. Before he can meet Sam's eye, Cas invades his line of sight.  
          "Dude, I gotta talk to you."  
          "Umm, okay?" Dean replies, following as Cas heads towards his bedroom. In his head, he goes over the possible scenarios, thinking 'oh shit' over and over as his imagination runs rampant.  
          "What's going on? What happened?" Cas shoves him further into the room before closing the door and locking it. "Are you okay?"  
          "Dude I'm fine, I need your help." Cas rummages through his underwear drawer.  
          "Woah, dude, I think Meg can help you with that," Dean tells him, laughing. Cas ignores him, still rummaging through the drawer, digging deep into the back.  
          Finally he turns to Dean and holds out his hand. In his palm is a small teal ring box.  
          "Holy shit, really? Oh yes, Cas, yes!" Dean teases, clutching his heart and batting his eyelashes at Castiel's scowl. "I'm fucking with you. Dude, that's awesome! When are you going to ask her?"  
          "I was thinking tonight. I mean, why not? All our friends are here. You and Sam. So, yeah, fuck it. Let's do it."  
          "Let's?" Dean asks, curiously.  
          "Okay, so here's what I was thinking…"

          Dean lets out an ear-piercing whistle and the entire party goes quiet. He nods at Cas, then begins to play. Cas gives him a nervous grimace, then starts to sing, leading the way as Dean follows with his guitar.  
                    "Ooo. you make me live            
                    whatever this world can give to me  
                    It's you, you're all I see  
                    Ooo, you make me live now honey  
                    Ooo, you make me live"  
          Everyone stares as Cas emerges from the hallway, and they part to let him through as we winds his way towards the balcony.  
                    "You're the best friend  
                    that I ever had  
                    I've been with you such a long time  
                    You're my sunshine  
                    And I want you to know  
                    That my feelings are true  
                    I really love you  
                    You're my best friend"  
          Dean strum quietly as he follows Cas. Looking up, he sees Sam standing behind Meg, beaming. Dean meets his eye and winks, and Sam tilts his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Meg is standing in front of him, hands covering her mouth and tears running silently down her face. She waits patiently as Cas makes his way towards her.  
                    "You're the first one  
                    When things turn out bad-"  
          Cas's voice cuts out as he becomes overwhelmed with emotion, and Dean picks up where he left off, singing quietly as Cas slides open the balcony door and steps outside. Sam backs away slightly, standing in the corner of the small area to give Cas and Meg space.  
                    "You know I'll never be lonely  
                    You're my only one  
                    And I love  
                    The things that you do  
                    You're my best friend"  
          Dean trails off at the end of the verse, but continues to strum quietly. Cas gets down on one knee, and reaches for Meg's hand. She's crying even harder, but she's beaming, her face turning red. Cas speaks to her quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But she can hear him, and she nods along through his speech. Dean glances up and meets Sam's eye and smiles before they both turn back to Meg and Cas's moment.  
          Finally, Meg says 'yes!' and Cas stands to wrap her in his arms. They kiss for a long moment, then Cas slides the ring on her finger. Meg wipes her eyes and Cas does too. Dean finds himself getting a little misty and sniffles a bit as he continues to play. The song comes to an end, and everyone bursts into applause, the guys cheering loudly and pumping their fists in the air.  
          Cas and Meg stand on the balcony, oblivious to it all, their hands holding each other's faces, their foreheads pressed together as they whisper. They stand like that for a long time, looking into each other's eyes, kissing between words.  
          Sam sneaks around them and comes over to Dean as he sets down the guitar.  
          "Wow," he says breathlessly, and Dean nods, taking his hand. "You knew?"  
          "Not until about ten minutes ago. He just told me."  
          "Wow," Sam repeats, making Dean laugh. He bends his head down and presses a kiss onto Dean's laugh. "That's so exciting for them."  
          "Yeah, absolutely. I couldn't be happier for them. They deserve to be happy," Dean adds, watching his best friend and his fiance. He reaches over and closes the sliding door, giving them some privacy. The party was back in full swing, everyone chattering happily about the engagement. Sam and Dean head over to the kitchen and lean against the counter, sipping their beers. Not a minute later, Meg comes rushing up.  
          "Oh my god, can you believe it?"  
          "Of course, Meg! It's about time that idiot proposed!" Dean says as Meg throws her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek.  
          "Thanks for playing for him, that was so beautiful!"  
          "Anytime," Dean blushes as he squeezes Meg.  
          Meg lets go of him before jumping up to hug Sam. He laughs and catches her, squeezing her tightly. He beams over her shoulder at Dean.  
          "Oh my god, Sammy, Im just so freaking happy!"  
          "Good! You should be! And I'm happy for you!" he replies, setting her down gently. She holds her hand out and he takes it to get a better look at the ring. "Damn, Cas, that's a rock!" he admires as Cas saunters over, a grin threatening to crack his face in two.  
          "Damn right, I saved up for two years for that ring. Only the best for my best," he adds, swooping in to give Meg another kiss. She giggles as he pulls away.  
          "Hang on baby, I've got to go ask Lydia! LYDIA!" she yells across the room, rushing off to find her friend.  
          "Ask her what?" Dean asks Cas.  
          "Maid of Honor," Cas says around the lip of his cup. "Speaking of," he starts, setting down his cup on the counter behind him, "you know I want you to be my Best Man, obviously…"  
          "And obviously, of course I will…" Dean finishes for him. Cas smiles, but continues.  
          "We're going to elope. Before you protest," Cas says, holding up his hand as Dean opens his mouth, "we already decided. I'm not close with my family, you know Meg's parents are gone, so we just want it to be the two of us. And you two, and Lydia and Gabe. I'm gonna fly us all out to Vegas and we'll spend the night and have a great time. And we'll get married, of course."  
          Dean smiles at his best friend.  
          "That sounds amazing, Cas. Really, I'm so fucking happy for you, dude," he wraps Cas in a huge and squeezes until Cas protests.  
          "Sam, you'll come too, right?"  
          "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Cas." Sam hugs Cas as well before hopping up to take a seat on the counter. "When?"  
          "Uh," Cas starts, and takes a step away. "Next weekend. Bye." He turns and darts into the crowd before Dean can grab him.  
          "Shit, next weekend? Coach is going to shit a brick when he hears we're all going to Vegas two weeks before playoffs!" Dean says, pacing back and forth in the little kitchen space.  
          "Dean. Deaaan." Sam says, trying to catch Dean with each pass he makes. Finally he manages to snag the sleeve of Dean's plaid. "Come here."  
          He pulls Dean between his knees, and Dean looks up at him, resting his hands on Sam's thighs.  
          "This will be good for you. You should relax and have some fun before all the stress of playoffs. Plus, how many times do you get to see your best friend get married? And we get to dress up again!" Sam says, trying to coax some tension out of Dean's face. After a moment, Dean smiles, visibly relaxing.  
          "Yeah, you're right. This is gonna be great. One weekend of fun before playoff prep."  
          Sam lifts Dean's chin and kisses him full on the lips. "That's my man."


	11. Chapter 11

Thursday night rolls around and Dean is slightly panicked. He calls Sam, chewing his fingernails and pacing back and forth across his bedroom floor. Sam swears, reaching from behind his shower curtain to feel blindly for his phone on the bathroom counter.

“Hey babe, what’s up?”

“I just realized that I have to throw Cas a bachelor party, and I have no idea what to do, and we’re leaving in two days and I still have no idea what I’m going to wear to the wedding and I don’t even know if Meg wants certain colors and I’m stressing out just a bit here, Sammy. This whole week just flew past and I’ve been so busy with school and practice and -”

“First of all,” Sam interrupts, stepping out of his shower and reaching for a towel, “you need to stop hyperventilating before you pass out. And stop chewing on your nails. Everything is gonna be fine.”

“How do you know that I’m chewing my nails?” Dean asks incredulously, pulling his finger out of his mouth.

“Because you always chew your nails when you stress out.”

“Right. Okay, so what am I supposed to do about the bachelor party?”

“Well, I doubt Cas wants some big extravagant thing. Why don’t we go to Lucky’s or that beer bar, and have a night with the guys? Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, actually that sounds good. What about the wedding? Have you talked to Meg?”

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. Don’t stress. I’ve already got suits for us.”

“What are you talking about? When? How?”

“Dean, I’m gay, I do these things. I called my tailor on Sunday-”

“Your tailor is open on Sundays?”

“No, I called his cell phone. Focus, Dean. He’s making us suits that go with Meg’s color scheme. We’re going tomorrow after your ISB lecture to get them finished.”

“Wow, you are a life saver,” Dean tells him, breathing out a deep sigh.

“I really just like to do these things. And I knew you would be freaking out,” Sam admits, “so I just got it done. It’s no big deal.”

“You’re awesome.”

“I know, that’s why you love me.”

“That and so much more. Okay, so I’ll pick you up after class?”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

 

Saturday morning found the six of them on a plane to Las Vegas. The four boys were all feeling especially hungover from their bachelor night at Flannigan’s. Cas had managed to get three pairs of seats in the same column. Meg and Lydia sat in the first pair, heads together, flipping through bridal magazines. Lydia had bought Meg a white jacket with ‘Bride’ on the back in rhinestones, which she wore over a pair of denim cut-off shorts and a red tank top. Lydia was wearing a light yellow sundress, and she twirled her long red hair around one finger as she listened to Meg.

Cas and Gabe were in the next row, both fast asleep. Cas leaned against Gabe’s shoulder, starting to drool on Gabe’s t-shirt. Neither had made it to take off before they passed out.

Sam and Dean were in the third row. Sam had pulled his beanie down over his eyes after they had reached cruising altitude, and he was asleep against the window. Dean had pushed up the armrest between them and leaned against Sam’s side, Sam’s arm coming to rest around his shoulders.

Dean traced his fingers along the neckline of Sam’s black v-neck t-shirt, stopping to circle the mole below Sam’s collarbone. He chuckles at the sight of Sam’s nose poking out from under his beanie. Sam lifts one edge of the hat, peering down at Dean with his eyebrow raised before he releases it and tilts his head back once more. Dean adjusts the collar of his denim shirt, and presses his ear against Sam’s chest.

He stays awake the entire flight, listening to the sound of Sam’s heart beating.

  
  


“How in the hell did you both manage to pack into one carry on?” Meg asks, pulling her rolling duffel towards them.

“We’re only staying two nights, Meg,” Dean replies, hoisting their duffel bag higher up on his shoulder, their suit bag in his other hand. Sam and Gabe are at the Starbucks kiosk getting coffee for everyone. Lydia trudges up behind Meg, also rolling a suitcase.

“Well, I’ve also got a wedding dress and a steamer in my suitcase!” Meg states indignantly. Dean raises both hands in surrender.

“Alright, that's fair,” Dean tells her, then glances over her shoulder. “Then how do you explain that?”

Cas comes trudging up behind her dragging his duffel across the tiled floor by the shoulder strap, a second duffel over his shoulder.

"You know they make suitcases that roll right?" Dean asks as Cas collapses into a chair.  "And that were just staying two nights, not a month? Or that you are neither gay nor a girl?" he adds, laughing.

"I like to have options!" Cas replies, giving Dean the bird as he laughs. Sam and Gabe come over to the table balancing cups of coffee which the pass out. Gabe takes Lydia’s suitcase. Feeling empty-handed, Sam reaches over to roll Meg’s suitcase for her. They trudge over to the front desk of the hotel.

"Name?" the beautiful receptionist asks, looking at Dean. She bats her eyelashes and Meg snorts. Dragging her gaze from Dean's face, she pegs Meg with a perfunctory polite smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Checking in for Novak. That's N-o-v-a-k," Meg replies sassily, drumming her fingernails on the counter. Cas stands beside her with his hand on her lower back, and grins at the blonde woman, whose nametag reads Barbie.

"Welcome to Aria, Mr. and Mrs. Novak, and guests. Here are your keys, your suite is on floor 18. Bradley will be your V.I.P. escort during your stay," Barbie adds, gesturing to a young man standing slightly behind the group. Lydia jumps as she notices the man. "We hope you enjoy your stay!"

"Guess they comped us an upgrade?" Cas says with a shrug, passing out keys to everyone.

"Awesome!" Gabe replies, wrapping his arm around Lydia's shoulder. They all turn and follow Bradley to the elevators, two bellboys following with their luggage.

  
  


They exit the elevator to a small hallway with four large wooden doors. Bradley swipes his own key and swings the door open wide for them. Stepping over the threshold past Bradley, the six of them freeze, jaws on the floor. The main room all dark hardwood and cream leather furniture. A spacious living room was adjoined by a dining room and a large kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out of over the Strip. Stairs from the living room led to a balcony that traversed the inside wall of the suite. Dean assumed the bedrooms were upstairs.

"This is comped right?" Cas asks, turning to Bradley, "cause l definitely can't afford this for two nights."

"The upgrade was made via phone," Bradley told him, crossing into the living room. “The caller insisted that a bottle of champagne be waiting when you arrived,” he adds, stopping in front of a bucket of ice, the golden neck of a bottle sticking out, six cups alongside it. “And there is a note.”

Cas crosses the room and takes the note, sliding it out of the small envelope.

“Since you decided to elope without us, consider this our wedding gift. Dr. and Mrs. Novak, Sr.” Cas read aloud, turning to face the group. “Guess Mom and Dad want us to get married in style!”

“Wow, that is so nice of them! Do you think they’re mad they weren’t invited?” Meg worries, peering down at the note in Cas’s hand.

“Nah, I bet they’re happy they don’t have to put on some huge party. Not that my mother doesn’t love huge parties. Come on, let’s pop this bad boy!” Cas exclaims, and Bradley reaches for the bottle. He unwraps the paper and pops the cork. Cas passes champagne flutes to everyone. Bradley leaves after giving everyone a business card with his personal number on it. Cas clears his throat and raises his glass, the rest of the group following suit.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” he starts. “To all the special ‘F’ words - to friends, family, fate, forgiveness, and forever.”

  
  


“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Dean asks as they all sit around the kitchen island, drinking beers from the fridge.

“Bradley got a us a limo, so we’re going to the club,” Cas replies, draining the last of his bottle. “I know how you feel about clubs, but you’re coming, and we’re gonna have a good time.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but Sam has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’ve never been to a club,” he tells Cas. Gabe sets his empty bottle in the sink.

“It can be fun sometimes. Usually their crowded and shitty, but I’m definitely in a dancing mood tonight boys!” Gabe exclaims, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he passes. “I’ll go see how long the girls are gonna be.”

Dean can’t help but smile at the excitement on Sam’s face. “Alright, alright. If I’m going to the club, I’m going to need some Pandora, some shots, and a different shirt,” he tells Cas, counting on his fingers. “Sammy, find me some vodka. Cas, you know what I need to hear. I’ll be right back.”

He changes out his grey sweater for a plain black fitted t-shirt. The sleeves accentuate the bulge of his biceps and it’s tight enough to show his ab muscles.

“Should I change?” Sam asks Cas, gesturing at his light grey v-neck and dark jeans.

“Nah, you look fine,” Cas says over his shoulder as he plugs his cell phone into the suites sound system. He scrolls through his Pandora stations until he finds Talk Dirty radio.

“Crank it!” Dean shouts as he hops down the stairs. “I love Derulo.”

Cas turns the volume up, and it pumps through the suite. Sam hands Dean a glass of chilled vodka and they clink their glasses together, not breaking eye contact as they both take a sip.

Meg cheers as she and Lydia make their way down the stairs, trying to be careful in their high heels. Meg is wearing a skin-tight black strapless dress. It’s covered in sequins and short to show off her lean legs. Lydia is wearing a short, strapless royal blue dress with a silver sequined belt. Both girls dance their way into the kitchen and grab glasses of vodka from the counter.

The group downs their drinks as Bradley knocks on the door, stepping into the suite to shout to Cas over the music that the limo is here.

  
  


They follow Bradley through the VIP entrance at the side of the club. As they step onto the main floor of the club, Sam’s jaw drops. The dance floor is alive with gyrating bodies. The bass from the mega speakers beats in their chests. Dean grins up at Sam’s obvious awe. Bradley gestures towards a roped off area with white leather couches in groups. Everyone follows but Sam, and Dean turns back towards him.

Sam looks at him, and Dean is reminded of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Let’s go!” he shouts over the music, sticking his hand out. Dean laughs and grabs his hand. Together they wind their way through the mass of bodies to the middle of the dance floor. They’re pressed tight together by people on all sides, and Sam bends to Dean’s ear.

“I have no idea how to dance!” he tells him, hoping Dean can hear him over the bass pumping through the club. The DJ is playing a remix of Talk Dirty by Jason Derulo.

“Just watch everyone else! Feel the music!” Dean replies with a laugh. He wraps one arm loosely around Sam’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Sam’s hands find Dean’s hips, and he grips tightly. As the beat hits, Dean drops his hips in time, grinding down the length of Sam’s thigh. Sam tries to keep rhythm with his hips and Dean throws his head back laughing. He uses his other hand to hold onto Sam’s hip, threading his thumb through Sam’s belt loop and helping him keep time.

After a few trips to the bar, Sam starts to relax, bending his knees and moving his hips against Dean’s. Soon both of them are panting, sweat dripping, and both feeling aroused. Dean pushes his hands under Sam’s shirt, feeling the muscles ripple as Sam rubs against him. Sam’s t-shirt is starting to get wet with sweat, so he follows the lead of the other guys in the club and pulls it off. He tucks as much as he can into his back pocket with a shrug. Dean grins at him, then sucks Sam’s lower lip into his mouth.

Meg bends over in front of Cas, and he grins over at Dean as she grinds against him. Lydia and Gabe are furiously making out on the other side of Sam. Dean turns around, and Meg presses against him, sandwiched between him and Cas. She kisses Dean on the cheek and laughs. Sam bends to kiss and bite at the side of Dean’s neck as they dance. Dean can feel Sam’s erection pressing against his ass. Sam’s hand slides up under Dean’s shirt, and Dean jumps as Meg starts grinding against his front. Cas presses against her, and the four of them dance together. Cas is starting to drip sweat as well, and pulls at the front of his shirt to unstick it from his chest. Dean nearly moans out loud as Sam drops his hip and rubs his erection up the crack of Dean’s ass.

“I need a drink,” Dean says into Sam’s ear as he turns around. He slides out from between Meg and Sam and starts to wind his way through the crowd. Halfway to the bar he changes direction, and heads towards the private bathrooms in the VIP lounge. Bursting through the door, he crosses to the sink and splashes some cold water on his face. He leans against the counter, trying to will his erection back down. The door bangs open again and he jumps, looking into the mirror to see over his shoulder. Sam is standing in the doorway, panting. Sweat glistens as it beads down his chest. Dean turns to stare at him.

Sam crosses the bathroom in two long strides and presses himself against Dean, his hands holding Dean’s head as his mouth claims his. He sucks Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it. Dean’s fingers tuck into the front of Sam’s jeans and he pulls Sam against him roughly. Sam growls, then reaches down to lift Dean up onto the counter of the bathroom by his hips. Dean moans into Sam’s mouth as Sam’s hands dive under the back of his shirt. Sam thrusts his tongue into Dean’s mouth and Dean wraps his legs around the backs of Sam’s hips, trying to pull him even closer. Sam is lifting Dean’s shirt off when the bathroom door opens.

“Oh shit, sorry. Um, we’re going to another club though,” Gabe tells them, averting his eyes and turning scarlet. Sam and Dean peel themselves apart, blushing.

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Dean replies, his voice cracking, which makes him cough. Gabe does an awkward sort of salute and runs into the bathroom door in his haste to leave. He finally makes it out the door, and Sam and Dean crack up as the door swings shut behind him.

“Poor Gabe,” Dean laughs out, hopping down from his perch on the counter.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sam growls in Dean’s ear. Dean grabs Sam’s hand and leads him out of the bathroom.

  
  


When they get back to the hotel in the early morning, neither of them stop as the group stumbles in the door. Sam leads Dean upstairs and to their room. He presses Dean against the closed door and kisses him roughly, his hands around Dean’s neck, his thumbs stroking the stubble on his jaw. Dean runs his fingers through Sam’s hair, and Sam grins against his mouth.

“Mmm, bed,” Sam mutters, his eyelids drooping drunkenly. He pulls away, grabbing Dean’s hand, and pulls him towards the bed. Dean stumbles after him, kicking off his shoes. Sam drops his jeans to the floor and crawls across the bed. Laughing, Dean follows suit. He lays down next to Sam, holding his weight up on his elbows. He leans over and kisses the end of Sam’s nose. Sam scrunches up his nose and laughs.

“I fuckin’ love you, Sammy,” Dean mumbles, laying himself across Sam’s chest. Sam’s arms wrap around him and he rubs Dean’s back.

“Love you too,” Sam whispers. Dean mutters unintelligibly under his breath about dancing and bathrooms as he turns onto his side. Sam curls himself around Dean’s back, snuggling his nose into the back of Dean’s neck, and wraps his right arm around Dean’s stomach. Dean grabs at his wrist and hugs it to his chest as he falls asleep. He is soon snoring lightly, and Sam chuckles under his breath as he falls asleep.

  
  
  


The next afternoon, the guys are all seated in the living room, beers in hand.

“Five minutes!” Lydia shouts from the balcony outside Cas and Meg’s room.   
“I don’t know why you’re shouting as us, babe, we’ve been ready for twenty minutes!” Gabe shouts back, and laughs as Lydia gives him the finger before turning around again. She has been in Meg and Cas’s bathroom for the better part of an hour helping Meg with her hair and makeup.

“You guys look good, all matchy,” Cas says, gesturing to Sam and Dean. Dean blushes, but Sam smiles.

“Thanks Cas. I think so too. Dean was skeptical about the colored suit, but I think he pulls it off,” Sam tells him. Dean is wearing an oxblood suit with a black dress shirt and black tie and pocket square. Sam is wearing an all black suit, with a black shirt, and an oxblood tie and pocket square.

“Alright, we’re ready!” Lydia calls from upstairs. The boys stand, and Dean pulls a black blindfold from his pocket. Cas looks at him incredulously.

“You know its bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!” Dean laughs, coming to stand behind Cas.

“Fine,” Cas surrenders, downing the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle on the coffee table. Dean reaches up to wrap the blindfold over his eyes as he straightens. “This is absurd,” Cas adds under his breath.

Lydia comes down the stairs first, in a strapless, fitted dress in oxblood, with a sweetheart neckline emphasizing her chest. She gives Gabriel a quick kiss on the cheek, then wipes the lipstick mark with her thumb. They all turn to the stairs as Meg appears on the balcony. Sam lets out a low whistle.

Meg is wearing a knee length white lace dress, an oxblood sash around her waist. The lace neckline is straight across, accenting the diamond pendant laying on her chest. In her hands, she holds a bouquet of oxblood and white flowers, accented with green leaves, with white silk wrapped around the stems. Her stilettos match the sash, as well as her painted nails. With her hair wrapped in an elaborate updo, she looks like a movie star.

“Meg, you look amazing,” Dean tells her, coming over to offer her his arm.

“Thanks, Dean,” she replies, giving his a quick kiss, followed by Sam and Gabe as they come over to give her light hugs.

She comes over to stand in front of Cas, who is standing still with his hands in his pockets, itching to take off his blindfold. Meg walks her fingers up the buttons of his white tux shirt, then hooks her index finger under his bowtie, and pulls him in for a kiss. His hands leave his pocket and come to rest on her lower back.

“You smell delicious, baby,” he whispers. “I wish I could see you though.”

“It’s worth the wait,” Sam tells him.

“Oh, the flowers!” Dean remembers, going over to the kitchen to get the flowers out of the fridge. He comes back to the living room, handing Gabe two small white boxes. Gabe pulls out Lydia’s wrist corsage and holds it out while she slides her hand inside. She pins the oxblood rose to Gabe’s collar as Dean pins one to Cas’s tux. He and Sam take turns pinning roses on each other, and they are all ready to go. A knock at the door signals that Bradley is here and the limo is waiting. Meg leads Cas from the suite and they head to the chapel.

  
  
  
  


The ceremony was short and sweet, held in a Little White Chapel just off the strip. Vows were exchanged, rings placed on fingers, and the Elvis impersonator married them in true Las Vegas fashion. After a round of champagne, the group climbs back into the limo to head to dinner at Sage, a restaurant Meg has been dying to try since she saw it on Food Network’s Top 10 Las Vegas. Bradley had gotten them reservations at a private table in the back of the restaurant.

“I feel like a rock star!” Meg exclaimed as the hostess led them importantly through the restaurant, addressing them all by name as she sat them.

“You’re way more important than any rock star, Mrs. Novak,” Cas says, leaning over to kiss her as he sat down.

“Why thank you, Mr. Novak!”

A server in a tuxedo brings a bottle of champagne to the table, as well as a bottle of expensive vodka. He offers both to Cas, to choose.

“Vodka!” Cas decides, and the server nods before coming around to fill each glass.

“Alright, I know you said no speeches,” Dean stands, clinking the edge of his vodka glass with his knife, “but I’ve had this speech in my head for years, and you’re not gonna keep me from giving it.”

Cas and Meg both smile and nod, and Cas puts his arm around Meg, pulling her against his side.

“First, I want to say how happy I am to be here, celebrating the marriage of my two best friends. When I say that I’ve had this speech ready a long time, I wasn’t kidding. I remember when I realized that I would be giving this speech some day. It was freshman year, and we we’re all hanging out at the lakehouse over Spring Break. You guys decided to cook dinner, stir fry. Remember, it how it burned? Took three days to get the smell out of the house. But I was watching you guys, sharing the kitchen. The way you two moved in sync, it was like watching a dance. As if your center of gravity is each other. Watching you two, I knew I was looking at true love and I knew right then we’d be here some day. I’m so glad that it’s finally happened. Cas, you’re like a brother to me, and Meg, that makes you my sister. I love you both so much. Mazel Tov.”

Meg wipes her eyes as they all toast, clinking their glasses together over the table. Dean sits again, and Sam reaches under the table to squeeze his hand and offers him a smile. Cas stands next, holding Meg’s hand, his glass in the other.

“Thanks, Dean,” he starts, giving Dean a nod. “You’re making me all emotional and shit. But I love you too, bro.” Dean laughs, nodding, and Cas continues, “I’ll keep it short, because I’m sure we’re all pretty hungry. Meg, I know I’ve already said this, but I’ll continue to say it every day for the rest of our lives. I love you with all of my heart. And to quote your favorite writer: ‘After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her, than inside it without her.’ Here’s to making ourselves a garden, baby.” 

Everyone cheers as Cas bends to kiss his wife, who is now crying silently into her napkin. She wipes at her eyes, trying to keep her makeup from running, and laughs as she blushes red. The servers pick the perfect time to bring in the first course of the meal, and the group falls into their comfortable banter as they eat their way through 5 courses, and drink through $400 worth of vodka and fine wine.

 

 

Back at the hotel, the six of them stumble into the lobby. Cas is carrying Meg on his back, her stilettos hooked around his fingers. Gabe has his arms around Lydia, supporting her weight as she clings to his shoulders. her shoes also off and in hand. Dean and Sam have their arms around each others shoulders, but neither is sure who is supporting whose weight. Bradley pauses them in front of the elevators to let them know he has re-stocked their room with bottled waters and individually packaged aspirins.

In the room, they all trudge up the stairs. Cas and Meg go down the hall to the far end, taking the master suite. Gabe and Lydia use the room at the top of the stairs, leaving Sam and Dean to the room at the other end of the hall. They stumble into the room, Sam whispering dirty things into Dean’s ear and biting at his ear lobe. Dean laughs as he pulls Sam towards the bed, then pushes him into a sitting position.

Sam has the hiccups and he laughs as Dean bends over and pulls of his shoes. He unbuttons his jacket and shrugs it off as Dean does the same, nearly falling over as he kicks off his own shoes. Dean nearly jumps onto Sam, pressing him back against the mattress. His hands fist in Sam hair and he kisses him forcefully. Sam’s arms wrap around him tightly before he turns his head and hiccups in Dean’s ear. They both burst into a fit of laughter, Dean rolling over to lay beside Sam.

After they both catch their breath, Sam turns onto his side. He slowly starts unbuttoning Dean’s shirt. Pausing when he reaches Dean’s belt, he looks up to meet Dean’s eyes.

“I have an idea,” he states, and Dean gives him a curious look. “Do you still have that blindfold?”

“Yeah, it’s in the pocket of my jacket. Why?”

“Just go with it,” Sam tells him, standing and reaching for Dean’s jacket where he had tossed it on a chair. He pulls the blindfold from the pocket and comes back to the bed, where he straddles Dean’s lap. Dean sits up, and Sam places it over his eyes, tying it tightly behind Dean’s head.

“Umm, okay, scoot back against the headboard,” Sam commands, and smiles when Dean obliges, using his arms and feet to push himself until his back is against the soft, plush headboard. He feels Sam crawl across the massive bed towards him, yet he jumps when Sam’s fingers brush against his stomach as he undoes Dean’s belt. Gently, Sam strips off Dean’s pants and shirts, leaving him sitting in just his briefs and the blindfold.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t. Move,” Sam demands as he gets up off the bed and crosses to the door. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Dean is listening before he goes to the kitchen. Carrying a tray of ice cubes and a bottle of champagne he found in the fridge, Sam sneaks back into the room, closing the door softly behind him with his hip. Dean is sitting exactly where Sam left him.

“What did you bring me?” Dean asks, his voice surprisingly husky.

“You’ll see,” Sam teases, then thinks about what he just said. “Oh, well I guess you won’t see. But you’ll feel it, and taste it,” he adds as he sets the tray and bottle on the nightstand and quickly strips off his shirts and pants. He sits on the bed in front of Dean, bending his knees to place his feet on either side of Dean’s hips. Reaching for the ice tray, Sam pops out a cube and holds it between his fingers. He trails it along Dean's collar bone from one shoulder to the other. Dean jumps at the initial contact. His nipples harden as the cold water drips from the cube down his chest, his erection following suit as Sam's tongue licks up the drops.

"Hmm," Dean mutters under his breath, his hands coming up to rub through Sam's hair. He groans as Sam freezes and reaches for Dean's wrists.

"No touching," he commands, pinning Dean's hands to the bedspread. He takes Dean's mouth with his, and Dean's lips part in invitation. Dean sighs into Sam's mouth, his hands fisting against the bedspread as he itches to explore Sam's body with his fingers as Sam explores him with his tongue. Sam pulls back, and Dean leans forward, trying to find him again. Sam reaches for the bottle of chilled champagne and pops the cork.

"Mmm," Dean moans as his imagination runs wild. Sam takes a gulp and holds it in his mouth. He takes Dean's chin in his hand and tilts his head back. Bringing his lips to Dean's open mouth, he lets the champagne trickle slowly into Dean's mouth. Dean can't help but moan again as the liquid fizzes on his tongue. Sam trails another ice cube down Dean's chest to his belly button and circles it, water dripping down to soak into the waistband of Dean's underwear. Popping it Into his mouth, he trails cold, wet kisses along Dean's jaw. His fingers tease along the outline of Dean's erection which is now pressing tightly against the fabric of his briefs. Dean's hand starts toward Sam and he swats it away.

"Ah ah," Sam scolds, "I said no touching. Do you want a spanking?"

"Yes." Dean replies, and Sam laughs. He pops an ice cube into his mouth and trails his cold tongue along the octopus tentacle on Dean's pec. Flicking Dean's nipple piercing with his tongue, he draws a moan from the back of Dean’s throat before he sucks his nipple into his mouth. "Oh God, Sam, please..." Dean trails off as Sam's tongue flicks his nipple again. Sam circles another ice cube around Dean's other nipple and Dean's hands clench in the fabric bunched around Sam's ankles.

Sam scoots away and Dean reaches out for him, fingers coming up empty. He grabs Dean's ankles and pulls him down flat on the bed.

"Sam!" Dean near shouts in surprise. Sam just laughs, crawling back up the bed. He pulls down on Dean's briefs and Dean eagerly lifts his hips to allow Sam to slide the fabric off. Sam bites his lip as he looks down at Dean, naked beneath him. Taking Dean's erection in his palm, he strokes up and down the length, wetting him with the water on his hands. Dean moans loudly as Sam reaches for the bottle of champagne again. He takes a mouthful before lowering his mouth to the tip of Dean's cock.

Dean nearly comes as Sam takes him in his mouth. The bubbly champagne tickles his sensitive skin as Sam bobs up and down on his cock. His hands come up of their own accord and this time Sam doesn't slap him away. Running his hands through Sam's hair, his sense of touch heightened by his lack of sight. Suddenly, Sam swirls his tongue just so on the underside of Dean's dick and Dean feels the pressure in his balls like a tidal wave. He tugs lightly at Sam's hair.

"Sam I'm going to come if you don't stop right now," Dean tells him through clenched teeth. Sam moans his assent and rubs his tongue against the base of Dean's cock again. Dean explodes into the back of Sam's throat. Sam swallows him down and Dean's hips jerk as he finishes. Finally, he relaxes back against the pillows as Sam pulls back and wipes at his mouth, a grin splitting his face.

"Damn, Sammy, that was amazing." Dean whispers, reaching blindly for Sam's hand where it still rests on his hip. Sam lays down alongside him and reaches behind Dean's head to untie the blindfold. Dean blinks rapidly as the light invades his eyes. He rolls over on top of Sam and kisses him. Sam laughs against Dean's mouth as Dean.

Dean reaches over and grabs the bottle from the nightstand. He brings it to his lips and gulps.

"Ah," Dean exhales as his thirst is quenched. "My turn," he adds, taking a mouthful of champagne from the bottle and bringing his lips to Sam's, he lets the liquid flow from his lips.

"You. Are. Awesome," Dean whispers against Sam's lips between kisses. Sam darts his tongue into Dean's mouth and Dean sucks on it lightly. Dean presses himself into Sam's chest, his hands tangling again in Sam's hair. Sam nuns his hands over Dean's shoulders and cups them around the back of his neck.

“I know,” Sam replies cheekily, laughing as he wraps his arms around Dean and rolls over on top of him. He kisses the end of Dean’s nose. Dean twirls a lock of Sam’s hair around his finger before fisting his hand in it and pulling Sam in.

They have slow, lazy sex that night, finishing off the bottle of champagne and leaving a puddle of melted ice cubes on the floor after they knock the tray from the nightstand. Their fingers intertwine as Sam straddles Dean, riding him in fluid movements. Dean can’t help but sit up as he finishes, the muscles in his stomach contracting in pleasure. He kisses across Sam’s chest, licking at the salt of his skin. Sam comes in his lap, tangled around Dean, chest to chest, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.

They fall asleep in the same manner, a tangle of arms and legs, holding each other, breath washing over each other’s face, whispers of love hanging in the air between their lips.


	12. Chapter 12

 

“BABY! WHERE’S MY LUCKY UNDERWEAR?!?” Cas shouts from his bedroom. Meg rolls her eyes at Sam before jumping up from the couch to go help him find his gear. Sam and Meg were watching the news on the couch while Dean and Cas got dressed to head to the arena for the final game of the Midwest Regional Division 1 Championship. Sam has Dean’s hockey stick over his knees, and is redoing the tapes, two spare sticks leaning against the wall beside the couch. Dean pokes his head out of his room.

“Sammy, I can’t find my socks!” he exclaims, exasperation and stress clouding his face.

“They’re in your bag, outside pouch on the zipper side,” Sam replies, using his soothing voice to try to calm Dean down. “Do you need help?”

“No, no. I just couldn’t find them. Where’s my red Jersey? In the bag?”

“Yes, with the white one.”

“Okay thanks. I’m almost ready.”

Sam finishes the stick he’s working on and leans it against the wall. He sighs, standing from the couch and padding down the hallway to Dean’s room. Poking his head through the open door, his face falls as he takes in Dean, who’s sitting on the end of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“Woah, babe, what’s wrong?” Sam asks, crossing the room and sitting down next to Dean. When he doesn’t look up, Sam reaches out and gently lifts his head out of his hands, turning Dean’s face towards him and forcing him to make eye contact. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” Dean replies, in classic Dean fashion.

“You’re not. Come on, Dean, I know you better than that. Just talk it out.”

“I’m just,” Dean sighs, “I’m fucking stressed! Not only is this playoffs, and we’re expected to win the Championship, but I’m expected to lead the whole team. Which is fine but there’s gonna be a bunch of scouts there and I have to do well if I want to be drafted to the NHL. I’ve got three huge exams coming up, not to mention the two presentations, five essays, and three portfolios I have to complete. And I have to finish my Bachelor’s Thesis. Graduation is in three weeks and I feel so ridiculously under-prepared and I don’t have the brain space to be thinking of this shit when I’m supposed to be focusing on winning this weekend. Fuck!”

“Okay, deep breaths,” Sam says calmly, guiding Dean’s head between his knees as he starts to hyperventilate. “There you go, it’s gonna be okay.” He rubs Dean’s shoulders, trying to knead out the tension with his fingers. “Okay just listen to my voice. Close your eyes,” he starts, and Dean turns his head to peer at him quizzically. “Just go with me here, my dad taught me this,” Sam tells him, lightly pushing Dean’s head back down between his knees. “Close your eyes, and think of the color black. Think about being surrounded by black. There’s nothing, no colors, no walls, no floor, no ceiling. Just black all around. Keep deep breathing.” Sam continues to massage the knots in Dean’s shoulders and neck, and he feels Dean slowly start to relax under his hands. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” Dean whispers from between his knees. The white leaves his knuckles as he unclasped his hands. Slowly he lifts his head and turns to Sam. “Thanks, Sammy, that really helped.” He leans over to kiss Sam quickly.

“Just focus on the game tonight. Clear everything else out of your head and just play. You’ll be great, babe, I just know it.” Sam holds Dean’s face between his hands and stares into his emerald eyes. “I love you. You’re amazing, and talented, and the best damn hockey player this school has ever seen. Got it?”

“Got it,” Dean replies with a smirk, his eyes crinkling. “Alright, let’s get out of here.” He stands from the bed, pulling Sam with him. Dean hoists his hockey bag over his shoulder and follows Sam out of his room and down the hallway. “Yo, Cas! You almost ready?!”

“Yeah, we’ll meet you there!” Cas replies through his bedroom door. Sam grabs up both of Dean’s sticks and the roll of tape.

“I’ll do the spares when I get there,” Dean tells him. Sam pulls the door shut behind him and they go out to Sam’s truck. Dean throws his bag and sticks into the back of the pickup. Sam reaches over as he drives and squeezes Dean’s bouncing knee. Dean smiles over at him, the goes back to staring out the window, his brow furrowed. Sam drops Dean at the players entrance of the arena and parks his truck. He waits in the truck for Meg and Cas to arrive, and he follows them in, taking Meg with him to go find good seats for the game.

Looking around the arena, Sam counts at least eight men in various business suits and NHL jackets, and guesses them to be scouts. He doesn’t realize his legs are bouncing until Meg whaps his arm and tells him to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he tries to relax. Meg squeezes his hand and smiles at him, and they both wait anxiously for the game to start.

 

 

Half an hour later, the puck drops, and its an all out war from that moment on. Sam and Meg spend much of the game on their feet with the rest of the fans, shouting at the refs for making bad calls, shouting at the players, cheering for goals. Meg cringes into Sam’s shoulder as Cas is slammed against the glass in front of them. However, he gets up, shakes his head, and gives Meg a smile before skating back into the melee. Dean sets Cas up for the first goal of the game. Gabe assists Dean for the second only three minutes later. The other team manages to sneak in a few goals as well. At the start of the third period, the score is 6-5, in favor of the other team.

There’s a pile up of players behind the opposing net and Cas is checked from behind, banging his helmet against the board as he goes down. Dean slams the guy into the board, and another opponent swings a fist, connecting with the side of Dean’s helmet. In a flash, a brawl breaks out, with all ten players and the opposing goalie duking it out as the refs rush in to break up the fight. Two opponents and Zeke end up in the penalty box after Zeke pulls a players jersey over his head and punches him in the stomach. Coach Singer is screaming at his players from the bench, his face turning red.

The refs finally manage to get the players under control. Cas scoops his helmet from the ice and jams it back on his head angrily. Dean skates past the bench and is handed a back-up stick by Coach. Play resumes with the Hunters on a 4-on-3 power play with less than two minutes left in the game.

Cas passes up to Dean and he takes off down the ice, Cas and Zeke close behind him. Just as he’s crossing the blue line into the other team’s end, a defenseman catches up to him and checks him with his shoulder. The player swings up with the handle of his stick and catches Dean under his shield, smashing the end into Dean’s nose. Dean’s vision tunnels and he drops like a brick.

Sam jumps to his feet with the rest of the crowd, everyone banging fists against the glass and shouting at the opposing player. Dean curls onto his side, trying to hold his nose with his gloves. The ref blows the whistle and play stops as the coaches run out onto the ice. Sam leans his forehead against the glass as the players on the ice take a knee and the crowd goes silent. After a minute Dean rolls up onto his knees, Coach Singer holding a towel under Dean’s nose to catch the blood that’s pouring from it. There’s drops of blood on the ice underneath him. Finally, Dean takes the towel and begins to stand. The crowd applauds as he gets up, talking to Coach and nodding as he skates towards the bench, still holding the towel under his flowing nose. Sam lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The ref ejects the opposing player from the game as some of the other players scrape the blood from the ice with their blades. After checking on Dean, the ref resumes the game. Dean’s nose is no longer bleeding, and he begins arguing with Coach to let him go back in. With an exasperated sigh, Coach agrees, and shouts to one of the younger players to switch up. Dean grins as he hops over the board onto the ice and takes off after the puck.

Zeke intercepts a pass, then drops the puck behind him to Cas, and they take off towards the opponent’s end of the rink. Cas passes sideways to Dean, who passes back to Gabe as an opponent comes after him. Gabe passes it up to Cas, and Dean sets himself up in front of the net. He receives the puck from Cas and immediately flips it up, shooting it over the goalie’s right shoulder and into the top corner of the net. The team quickly celebrates before setting up for the next puck drop. The score is tied at 6-6 when the Hunters get control of the puck again.

Cas passes to Dean and he takes off towards the other end of the ice. Seeing his opportunity, he swerves around a defenseman and lines himself up for the shot. Winding back with his stick, he shoots. The crowd collectively draws in a breath as the puck flies towards the goal. The puck just barely manages to make it over the goalie’s pad and into the net, and the arena erupts in cheers. The team starts to pound against the boards and ice with their sticks as the clock runs down the final seconds of the game. Dean is slammed into a hug from behind by Cas, closely followed by the rest of the team as everyone tosses their sticks, helmets, and gloves to the ice. Confetti rains from the ceiling, making the ice hard to skate on as the guys slam into the boards, hugging eachother and cheering at the tops of their lungs. Coach Singer and the four other assistant coaches come running onto the ice and the team envelopes them into a massive group hug.

After celebrating under the blaring school theme song, the Hunters line up at center ice and shake hands with the opposing team. Different camera crews come onto the ice, sportscasters walking delicately to keep from tripping while on camera. Dean interviews for ESPN, laughing as Cas plops a championship hat on his head. The NCAA Men’s Ice Hockey Competing Chair comes onto the ice bearing a large gold-plated trophy, which he hands to Dean. The team gathers around him as he hoists it into the air, all reaching out to touch the trophy. Dean passes the trophy to Coach and everyone cheers, Coach Singer beaming from ear to ear. Dean slings his arm over Coach’s shoulder as they stand center ice with the NCAA Chairs. The ESPN interviewers ask Coach and Dean more questions about their season before the team poses around the trophy for the Championship photo. Dean is given a plaque for his award as Most Outstanding Player. Finally they all make their way to the locker room, still cheering and clapping each other on the backs.

  
  


When Dean comes out of the locker room, Sam is leaning against the wall, playing a game on his cell phone. Dean drops his duffel and leans his stick against the wall as Sam looks up. They both pause for a minute, grinning at each other, before Sam takes one large step forward and wraps Dean in a hug. Dean laughs as Sam squeezes him, lifting him off his feet. His lips find Sam’s as he’s lowered back to the ground, and Sam presses against him, nearly bending him backwards.  

Dean hears a high-pitched squeak from behind him, and breaks away from the kiss in surprise. He turns his head, arms still wrapped around Sam’s neck, and sees his parents. His father is looking at him skeptically, while his mother turns red and covers her mouth with her fingertips. Dean quickly unwinds himself from Sam’s embrace and squares his shoulders, standing up straight like his father taught him.

“Hi sweetie,” Dean’s mother says quietly, and Dean bends as she brings her hands up to his shoulders. He wraps his arms around her waist as she kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“Hey mom. Dad,” Dean says, shaking the hand his father holds out. Sam looks on in confusion at the family reunion taking place in front of him. Dean takes a step back and bumps against Sam’s chest. He turns slightly, reaching back to pull Sam forward.

“Mom, Dad, this is Sam Remington,” Dean tells them, and Sam leans forward to shake both of their hands. “My boyfriend,” he adds, putting subtle emphasis on the title. “Sam, these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sam replies, making eye contact with both of Dean’s parents and smiling brightly at them.

“It was a good game, dear,” Mrs. Winchester tells Dean sweetly.

“Your footwork at the net needs improving. And I’m sure the scouts were not impressed with the dramatics over a little nosebleed,” Mr. Winchester says coolly, not glancing up from his Blackberry.

“That guy almost broke his nose!” Sam starts, surprised at the attitude Dean’s father is showing towards his son. Dean puts his hand on Sam’s chest, giving a small shake of his head.

“I’ll work on it,” Dean tells his father tersely. His mother looks back and forth between them before reaching over to pat Dean’s arm lightly.

“You’ll be at the lake house this weekend, won’t you darling?” she asks Dean, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

“Of course,” Dean replies, smiling softly at his mother before glaring up at his father and adding, “we’ll both be there.” Dean’s father returns the glare, but doesn’t comment.

“Okay sweetie, we have to go pick up your sister. We’ll see you next weekend!” Mrs. Winchester exclaims, fussing over Dean’s hair before giving him another kiss on the cheek. His father puts out his hand for Dean to shake.

“It was nice to meet you,” Sam says, also sticking out his hand, but Mr. Winchester either doesn’t hear, or ignores him.

“We will see you next weekend, then,” Mr. Winchester says to Dean before he stalks away, his long coat whipping behind him. It reminds Sam of a villain’s cape. Mrs. Winchester opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it quickly before nodding at Sam and turning to follow her husband. As soon as they are out of sight around the corner, Dean visibly sags. He turns to see Sam still standing next to him, his hand still outstretched, with a quizzical look on his face.

Sam laughs in disbelief as Dean leans against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the other reaching out to take Sam’s.

“I’m sorry about that, my parents, uh,” Dean starts, not really sure how to explain. “My dad’s an asshole. But he always has been, so I guess I’m kinda used to it? And my mom just follows along. God, I’m sorry. I should have warned you they might be here.”

“Might? Why wouldn’t they be? This is the biggest game of your career!” Sam asks, astonished.

“Uh, yeah. My dad’s pretty busy. There’s some big stuff in the works with Belgium. So I wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to make it down from Connecticut.” Dean replies, shrugging before pushing himself off the wall and leaning down to pick up his bag. Sam grabs it before Dean can and slings it over his shoulder. Dean smiles as he grabs his sticks, then tangles his fingers around Sam’s as they head out of the arena. “Oh, sorry about saying you were coming to the lake house this weekend. I just wanted to piss my dad off. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Do you want me to?” Sam asks, looking down at their hands swinging between them.

“Absolutely, I was going to bring it up tonight at dinner. I don’t think I can make it through the annual Winchester Repeating Arms Gala without you,” Dean tells him. Suddenly, Sam stops, and Dean is jerked to a halt by their connected hands.

“Wait, you’re a Winchester, as in WINCHESTER? As in the Winchesters that started the Winchester Repeating Arms Company? As in my Dad’s favorite gun makers?” Sam asks incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t realize it was a big deal,” Dean replies sheepishly.

“I have to tell my dad. He’s gonna freak out!” Sam laughs, starting to walk again.

“So you’ll come? My sister will be there, and I know she’s dying to meet you,” Dean adds, walking fast to keep up with Sam’s long strides.

“Of course I’ll come!” Sam replies, hoisting Dean’s bag into the back of his truck. “Hey, we should meet up with everyone for dinner. I guess they’re all going to Andiamo’s for pizza.”

“Perfect.” Dean reaches over after Sam pulls out of the parking spot, weaving his fingers between Sam’s and leaning back against his seat.

  
  
  


Friday afternoon finds Sam riding shotgun in Dean’s Impala, barreling down the highway towards Colorado, and Dean’s parent’s Lake House. They have the windows rolled down, and Sam lets his hand drift lazily in the wind, his other entwined with Dean’s on the seat between them. Dean has a Led Zeppelin tape in the cassette player and is crooning along to “Ramble On”, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and playing air drums, making Sam laugh as he pounds against the seat with their joined hands.

Dean squeezes Sam’s fingers, and Sam looks over to meet his eye. Dean keeps singing as Sam smiles over at him and returns the squeeze.

“So the Gala thing isn’t until Sunday?” Sam asks loudly over the music. Dean reaches up to turn it down before winding his fingers between Sam’s again.

“Yeah, Sunday night, there’s a big dinner, a band, and a bunch of drunk, rich, white people donating money to whatever charity my mom picked out this year. Dancing, too,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam. “You packed your tux right?”

“Yeah it’s in the bag with yours,” Sam replies, then asks, “what are we doing the rest of the weekend then?”

“Well tonight we’ll have dinner with my parents and Jo. She’s dying to meet you. And tomorrow I thought we could just relax on the lake.”

“Sounds great. Which lake is it? How much farther?”

“Lake Catamount. It’s like 3 more hours. You need to stop for anything?” Dean inquires, meeting Sam’s eye again.

“No, I’m okay,” Sam replies, not breaking eye contact. Dean winks at him, and Sam laughs. “Eyes on the road, babe.”

Dean chuckles, reaching for the stereo and cranking it up to an ear spliting level and belting out the chorus to Zep’s “Traveling Riverside Blues”.

 

“Holy shit. Dude, that is not a lake house. That’s a lake mansion!” Sam exclaims, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look as Dean pulls down the long driveway. They had passed through the stone gateway moments ago, and were now winding through a thick copse of trees. Dean merely shrugs in response, pulling his car around the house to the garage.

He parks the car in front of the large 4-car garage and they both climb out. Sam lets out a low whistle as he spins in a circle, taking in his surroundings. The lake house is settled deep in the woods surrounding Lake Catamount, and it nestles against a curve in the lake. Sam can see through the trees at either side of the house to the the blue waters, rippling slightly in the breeze.

The house itself is light stone and dark wood, two stories tall. The large wooden front door must be 10 feet tall, Sam guesses as he and Dean approach it. It’s topped by a massive stained glass window. Dean presses down on the massive iron handle and shoves the door inward. He follows it over the threshold and Sam nearly bumps into Dean as he steps in behind him. Dean stops in the foyer and holds out his arms, then rushes forward to envelope a stout, grey-haired, African-American woman.

“Ooh boy, it is good to see you!” she exclaims, holding Dean away from her to get a better look. “You get more handsome each time I see you, I swear it.” Dean beams down at her before bending to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Now don’t be rude, introduce me to this boyfriend I’ve heard so much about!”

Dean blushes, turning towards Sam.

“Missouri, this is Sam Remington. Sam, this is Missouri, she’s the head housekeeper here, and she practically raised me and Jo,” Dean explains.

“”Jo and I,” Missouri corrects, tutting at Dean before crossing the space between them and giving Sam a hug, which he eagerly returns. “My goodness you are a big one!” she exclaims, laughing at the way Sam has to stoop to hug her. “And quite the looker!”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to blush as he runs a hand through his hair. Missouri turns to Dean and gestures openly to the foyer.

“Go give Sam a tour. And your sister got here about an hour ago, she should be arou-”

“DEAN!” comes a shout from somewhere deep in the house. A moment later a young blonde woman is bounding down the stairs, two at a time. She leaps at Dean, and he catches her, spinning in a circle before stopping. He hugs her tightly for a long minute, her sneakers a foot from the floor, his head buried in her neck, before finally lowering her to her feet. Missouri sighs, patting a hand over her heart.

Breaking away from the hug, Jo turns to Sam and pegs him with a thousand-watt smile.

“Damn, Dean, he’s a hottie!” she says, winking at Sam as she bumps Dean’s hip with her own. She saunters over to Sam and puts out her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

“You too, I’ve heard so much about you,” Sam replies, shaking her hand. “Only good things, of course,” he adds, smiling at Dean over her head.

“Why don’t you two give Sam the tour, then come on down to the kitchen. I made your favorite Dean,” Missouri says, and Dean perks up. It reminds Sam of a puppy when it hears the word ‘treat’, and he laughs.

“Missouri makes the best pecan pie in the world,” Jo explains, and Dean nods his agreement. “Come on, we’ll show you around.”

Dean throws his arm around Jo’s shoulder and they head off, Sam close behind.

  
  


“Wow, this place is incredible,” Sam gushes, standing next to Dean on the huge deck that spans the back of the house. He stares around at the incredible view. Down a small bluff is a sandy beach, surrounded by big boulders and tall grasses. The water in the lake is crystal under the slowly setting sun, rays of yellow and white beaming from the surface. Large birds swoop lazily through the sky against the backdrop of Colorado mountains. To Sam, it looks like a scene from a movie. Everything looks wild and perfect.

Dean watches Sam’s face rather than the scenery. He can’t help but grin at the look on Sam’s face, and he reaches over to wraps his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam pulls him close with an arm around his shoulder, the other coming around Dean’s chest in a sideways hug.

“It’s beautiful here, Dean. Thank you for bringing me,” Sam says, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking louder would disrupt the calm serenity.

Dean doesn’t reply, just leaning his head against Sam’s shoulder. They stand watching the sun as it slowly drops towards the treeline.

Some time later, Jo sticks her head out through the sliding glass door and asks, “you two lovebirds coming, or what?”

“Pie!” Dean remembers, and Sam releases him as he darts into the house. Sam sighs as he takes one more look at the gorgeous sunset before turning to follow his boyfriend and the smell of homemade pecan pie.

  
  


Dinner that night is served in the formal dining room. Sam is still blown away by the size of the house. The large dining room is finished in dark wood, polished to a glistening sheen. In the center of the room is a magnificent wooden table surrounded by 14 hand carved chairs. They all sit at one end of the table, Dean’s father taking the head seat, with Dean’s mother to his right and Dean to his left. Sam sits next to Dean, Jo next to her mother. They eat the first course, a flavorful soup, in awkward silence before Dean’s father finally speaks.

“How are your grades this semester? I hope you’re still maintaining your four-point,” he says, looking at Dean as his bowl is cleared from in front of him by a young brunette girl. Dean clears his throat, setting down his spoon before answering. Sam catches Jo rolling her eyes in his peripheral vision.

“Of course, I have a four-point-two.”

“Good. Scouts look at all of that. Has anyone contacted you yet?”

“Not yet, but season’s only just ending. I’m sure I’ll hear soon.”

“I had assumed you would have heard from Pittsburgh by now,” Mr. Winchester adds, raising an eyebrow at Dean, who shrugs one shoulder, looking down at his plate as Molly, the chef, adds vegetables to the steak and potatoes there.

“Isn’t Alan coming to the Gala on Sunday dear?” Mrs. Winchester asks sweetly over her glass of red wine. “He owns the Pittsburgh Penguins,” she adds, glancing at Sam.

“Yes he is. I’ll have a chat with him, and be sure to introduce yourself, Dean,” Mr. Winchester adds sternly before picking up his fork and knife and effectively ending the conversation.

“So Sam,” Jo starts loudly, “what are your plans for the future? Dean tells me that you’re looking to go to Law School?”

“Yeah, uh, that’s the plan.” Sam tells her nervously.

“Where are you applying?” she asks, and Sam sets down his fork gently, looking over at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, actually, I’ve just been offered a full ride to Stanford.” Dean drops his fork and  looks over at him, surprised. “They just confirmed this morning,” Sam adds, turning to face him. “I didn’t want to say anything until it was for sure.”

“Well that’s awesome! Congratulations, Sam!” Jo beams at him from across the table while Dean just stares at him. Sam turns to thank Jo for her kind words before looking back at Dean.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to make a big deal of something that maybe wasn’t going to happen.” Dean just nods in response, picking up his fork again.

“I know the Dean of Law over at Stanford, a Mr. Pickernell. He’s a good friend of the family. Did you know his father was the Dean of Law before him?” Mr. Winchester mentions, and it seems to Sam that Dean’s father always has a name to drop.

“No, sir, I didn’t know that,” Sam replies, feigning interest. Mr. Winchester carries on about who he knows where for the remainder of the main course and well into dessert. Dean keeps his mouth shut, focusing on the piece of pie in front of him while his brain whirls a mile a minute. Jo kicks him under the table and he looks  up to see her mouthing “is everything okay” silently, concern coloring her features. He just nods, looking back at his plate where the destroyed piece of pie still waits for him.

Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester stand from the table and excuse themselves to the parlor for tea, and Mr. Winchester’s usual after dinner cigar. Jo gives Dean another concerned look before she heads off towards her bedroom.

Dean stands and starts to walk out of the dining room, but pauses in the doorway. Sam takes that as his cue to follow, and he does. Dean winds his way up the grand staircase and down the hallway to the guest room where Sam is staying for the weekend, not wanting to upset Dean’s parents by them sleeping in the same room. After Sam steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him Dean turns to face him.

“So you’re going to Stanford? Were you going to tell me? God, Sam I didn’t even know you applied!” Dean shouts, trying but failing to keep his voice down. “Fuck. I don’t mean that I’m not happy for you, that you got offered a full ride to Stanford. I mean, you could have told me before dropping a bomb like that at dinner.”

“Why is that so surprising? Graduation is in two weeks, Dean. I’ve got to go somewhere. And unlike you, my family can’t just pay for me to go wherever the hell I want!”

“Don’t turn this into a money thing! That has nothing to do with it and you know it! Holy shit! I can’t believe you just said that!” He turns away from Sam, rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window at the moon reflecting off the lake.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that I’ve got to go wherever I can get a full ride, because I can’t afford it otherwise. Goddamnit. Can we please just not go there right now?,” Sam says quietly, coming up behind Dean and wrapping his arms around his waist. He leans his forehead onto Dean’s shoulder, and Dean sighs.

“You’re right. We can talk about it later,” Dean replies, stepping out of Sam’s embrace. “I’m going to bed.” He storms out of the room, pulling the door open wide and slamming it shut behind him. He stomps down the hall, into his own room, and slams that door too.

  
  
  


What feels like an eternity later, Dean is still laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He groans, then gets out of bed and pulls a pair of sweats over his boxers. Grabbing a zip-up hoodie from his bag, he quietly pulls open the door to his room. Zipping the hoodie up over his bare chest, he pads down the hallway to Sam’s room.

“Dean?” he hears behind him, and freezes with his hand on the door knob. He turns around to see Jo poking her head out of her room.

“Sorry, Jo, just go back to sleep,” Dean whispers, “I was just going to talk to Sam.”

“Were you guys fighting earlier? Is everything okay?”

“No, not really,” Dean admits with a huff, and smiles when Jo swings her door open wider, inviting him in for a late night chat like they used to do when they were growing up. He pushes her door shut behind him and follows her over to the window seat. They sit opposite each other, Jo folding her legs under her.

“What happened?” she asks quietly.

“The whole Stanford thing, I had no idea he even applied there.”

“Have you guys talked about what you’re gonna do after graduation?”

“Well, no. I thought we were just enjoying things the way they were,” Dean shrugs, looking down at his hands. He twirled the drawstring of his sweatpants between his fingers.

“Dean, you have to think of it from his point of view, too. Your future is pretty much set. Play for the NHL, take over the family business. But Sam, he’s gotta plan ahead. What’s so bad about him going to Stanford?”

“Nothing! It’s not that at all. I’m so happy for him, that’s such a big deal. I just wish he had mentioned it to me.”

“Why? Are you planning to stay together after graduation?” Jo asks, genuinely curious.

“We haven’t talked about that either,” Dean admits, “but I want to. I mean, if he wants to. But now he’s going to California, and you know dad will flip a shit if I don’t play for Pittsburgh. It’s his favorite team. And it sound like by the end of the Gala he’s going to have Alan forcing his scouts to draft me. It’s just…” Dean trails off, picking at the seam of the cushion they were sitting on.

“Just what? Who says you have to play for Pittsburgh? If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Who cares what Dad thinks. Are things really that serious with Sam, though, that you’re going to base your decision off where he’s heading?”

“Honestly, yeah. Jo, I think he’s it for me.”

“Wait, like ‘The One’?” she asks, scooting forward until her knees are pressed against Dean’s. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it ever since he said he’s going to Stanford. I’d follow him anywhere. Fuck, that sounds so cheesy. But I would. I really would.” Dean finally looks up and chuckles at Jo’s expression. She’s got a shit-eating grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

“Oh my god!” she wraps her arms around his neck and squeals in his ear. “This is so exciting!”

“Jo, keep it down, you’ll wake the neighbors!”

“I’m just so happy right now!” she exclaims, getting up from the window seat and doing a little dance. Dean laughs at her, reluctantly standing as she yanks on his hand and wrapping her in a hug. She finally calms down and he releases her. “So are you going to go apologize or what?” she demands, putting a hand on her hip.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. That’s where I was headed when you had to stick your nose in,” he says as he passes her, cuffing her lightly on the shoulder. She sticks her tongue out at him, then grabs a pillow from the window seat and throws it at his head.

Dean laughs as he ducks the pillow and pulls her door shut behind him. He pads turns to Sam’s door and slowly twists the knob. Wincing as the door creaks, he swings it open just enough to slide himself inside.

“Sammy?” he whispers, creeping up to the end of the bed. Sam is fast asleep, curled around a pillow. Dean smiles, then sneaks around to the side of the bed. Tossing his hoodie to the floor, he slides under the covers behind Sam, wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist and intertwining their fingers. He pulls Sam against his chest and settles into the pillow behind his head.

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

  
  


Sam wakes up to hot breath on his neck and one hairy leg sandwiched between his.

“Dean?” he whispers, rolling over. Dean jolts awake, blinking rapidly.

“Ah, shit, I fell asleep.”

“What are you doing in here? Aren’t we going to get in trouble for sleeping in the same room?” Sam asks, remembering how adamantly Missouri had pointed out that Sam was to sleep in the guest room.

“Who cares?” Dean replies with a shrug. “I came in here to apologize and you were sleeping, so I laid down with you. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You were going to apologize? I was going to apologize.”

“What for? Thinking of your future? Planning ahead? I’m the one who needs to apologize. My whole life has been planned out for me since day one. Hockey and guns, the family business. I don’t really think about things like normal people do. I should have known you would have plans for after graduation.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” Sam replied, leaning in to plant a kiss on Dean’s lips. “And that I said that thing about the money, that was stupid. I know that’s not who you are.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Dean told him, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly. He returns Sam’s chaste kiss before rolling out of bed. “I’ve got to get out of here before, heaven forbid, my parents think I slept with another man!” Dean says with a fake gasp, clutching his heart dramatically. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he adds with a wink before opening the door and sticking his head out. Once he saw the coast was clear, he dashed quickly back to his room. Sam quickly pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then bends down to pick up the hoodie Dean left on the floor. Sniffing it, he grins as he pulls it on, enveloping himself in Dean’s scent.

Breakfast is served on the back deck, pancakes and fruit piled high on platters. Dean is already at the table when Sam arrives, a stack of pancakes on his plate, drizzled in maple syrup. A slice of melon and some grapes are on a second plate next to it. Jo is also there, sawing away at her own stack of pancakes. Dean winks at him, then gestures to the chair next to him with a tilt of his head.

“Good morning, Jo, Dean.” Sam sits next to Dean and reaches for the platter of fruit. Jo mumbles her greeting around a mouthful of pancake. Dean just leans over and bumps Sam with his shoulder. Sam fills his plate with fruit, then pours himself a cup of coffee. Breakfast passes in silence as everyone enjoys their food. Leaning back in his seat, Sam tosses a grape in the air. Dean tilts his head back and catches it in his mouth, then grins over at Sam, making Jo burst into a fit of laughter.

“Where are mom and dad?” Dean asks her. Their parents hadn’t joined them for breakfast, which is unusual.

“They went over to the club to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow night.”

“Oh okay. Is Mark still coming? I figured we could all go out on the boat.” Dean says, standing and stretching before downing the last of his coffee. Jo’s boyfriend Mark was making the drive up this morning after he got out of work.

“He should be here soon, maybe an hour,” Jo replies as she also stands, then heads into the house through the sliding door.

“I’m gonna go for a run,” Sam tells Dean, plucking another grape from its stem and tossing it into his mouth. “You want to come?”

“It’s 7am, Sammy. You’re such a workout freak,” Dean groans, rolling his neck back and fourth. “But yes, I’ll come.”

 

Ten minutes later, Dean ambles onto the back deck, sneakers in hand, to find Sam already stretching. Dean pauses to admire the shape of Sam’s ass in his shorts as he bends over and wraps his hands around his ankles. Dean walks his fingers along Sam’s spine, counting the moles as he passes them. Sam rights himself, flashing Dean a megawatt grin.

“Come on, slowpoke, get your shoes on,” Sam admonishes him, stretching his arms over his head. Dean grumbles as he bends to put on and tie his sneakers. As he stands, Sam steps closer, and Dean’s fingers instinctually glide over his stomach, waving against the ripples of muscle.

“Follow me,” Dean whispers in his ear, his teeth nipping at Sam’s earlobe. Dean knows exactly where they’re going to run to.

  
  


“Where the hell are we going?” Sam pants out between breaths. Both of them are dripping with sweat in the 90 degree weather, the sun beating down on their shoulders. Dean had long since removed his t-shirt, tucking it into the back of his shorts.

“Almost there, it’s just around this bend,” Dean replies over his shoulder, leading Sam down a well worn path through the woods. One last curve in the trail and Dean skids to a halt, bending over to grip his knees and breathing heavily. Sam stops next to him, panting, and rests a hand on his back.

“I’ve got to get you running more,” he teases Dean as he looks around. They’re standing in a clearing of trees. There’s a large pond surrounded by moss-covered boulders. “Woah, this place is awesome.”

“Yeah, Jo and I used to come swimming here as kids,” Dean replies, head still hanging down and shoulders hunched. He groans as he stands straight and looks over at Sam. “I thought I might need a swim after all this godforsaken exercise,” Dean tells him, holding his shoulder for support and kicking off his shoes. He bends to pull off his socks and looks over to see Sam following suit. Dean bites his lower lip between his teeth and sidles up to Sam, running his hands over Sam’s sweat-slicked stomach. Sam wraps one hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him in for a chaste kiss, Dean’s scruff tickling his chin. He can taste the salt on Dean’s lips and darts out with his tongue for more. Dean dips his fingers inside the waistband of Sam’s shorts and shoves them to the ground. His own soon follow as Sam’s hands press under the tight fabric of his boxer briefs.

Dean pulls at the front of Sam’s underwear, smirking as he frees Sam’s erection. He wraps his palm around it and Sam moans. He backs Sam towards the water, pushing Sam’s boxers down further with his other hand. Sam doesn’t break the connection of their lips, his other hand coming up to card through Dean’s hair as he sucks on Dean’s tongue. When they reach the edge of the pool, Dean breaks away, dropping his boxers to the ground. He grins over his shoulder at Sam before cannonballing into the water. Sam shouts as warm water douses him, then tosses his boxers over his shoulder and jumps in.

“Holy shit,” he asks, rubbing his feet over the hot rocks at the bottom of the pool, “why is it so warm?”

“It’s a hot spring, one of the only ones around the lake big enough to swim in. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dean replies, treading water in the middle of the pool. The water comes up to his neck, and in the middle he can’t touch at all without his head being underwater. He paddles the few strokes over to Sam and Sam reaches out to grab his hips, pulling him in close. Dean wraps his legs around Sam’s hips, and Sam’s hands under his ass gripping tightly. Their mouths smash together, Sam’s tongue probing Dean’s mouth. His fingers press against Dean, and Dean moans into this open mouth.

“Dean, I want to, yeah,” Sam pants out, his breath growing heavy again as Dean grinds against his erection. When Dean nods, Sam’s fingers press into him, the water acting as a makeshift lube. Dean gasps, fumbling to reach between their stomachs and wrap his hand around Sam. “Can I, uh, can I top?” Sam asks, blushing as he pulls his head back to look in Dean’s eyes.

“Of course you can, I want you to,” Dean replies truthfully, then leans forward to nibble along Sam’s jaw line. Sam adds a finger and Dean bucks against him, picking up the tempo of his hand on Sam’s cock. Dean is willing to bottom for Sam, something he has never done with another man before. He holds onto Sam’s shoulder as he kisses and licks the sweat from his skin, trailing kisses down his neck and across this throat. Sam’s head falls back as Dean kisses and strokes him, but he continues to fuck Dean with his fingers, spreading him open wider with each stroke.

“Babe, I’m ready, come on,” Dean gasps against the skin of Sam’s neck, and the sensation travels straight to his cock. Grabbing Dean’s ass in his hands, Sam lifts him up and lowers him onto his cock. They both moan as Sam thrusts his hips, pushing deeper inside Dean with each thrust.

“God you feel so good, Sammy,” Dean breathes into Sam’s ear, using his grip on Sam’s shoulder and his legs around Sam’s waist to bounce himself up and down on Sam’s cock. “So fucking good.”

“Shut up,” Sam growls, biting Dean’s shoulder and thrusting into him even harder. He turns, pressing Dean’s back against a boulder at the edge of the pool. Reaching his arms under Dean’s knees, he hoists Dean’s legs up into the crooks of his elbows and grasps Dean’s biceps for leverage. Dean moans as Sam fucks into him and reaches between them to stroke himself. Sam devours his mouth, and their tongues clash and rub against each other.

Sam comes first, pounding into Dean in a punishing rhythm before freezing, shuddering as he unleashes inside Dean. Sam then lifts Dean farther up onto the rocks so he can lick and bite at Dean’s nipple piercing, his hand taking over for Dean’s as he strokes him towards orgasm. Dean comes undone as Sam closes his lips around Dean’s nipple, sucking the piercing into his mouth and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Sam strokes him out, and they both lay spent in a pile on the rocks. The warm water washes them as they try to regain their breathing.

“Sammy,” Dean whispers, turning his head to the side and burying his nose in Sam’s soaked hair. “We gotta get back, they’ll be looking for us.”

Sam groans as he pushes himself off Dean, falling back to float in the warm water. Dean laughs, then splashes water at him. They clamber out of the pool and pull their boxers and shorts on over their wet skin. Carrying their sneakers, they walk back to the house, barefoot in the sand.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean parks the 30’ Sea Ray at the far end of the lake, well out of eyesight of the house, Sam notices. Mark pops open the cooler and passes out beers to everyone. Sam and Jo climb up to the front of the boat and lay towels on the deck to soak up the sun while Dean and Mark get into deep conversation about classic cars. Jo lays on her stomach and unties the back of her swimsuit to avoid tan lines.

A jet ski comes flying towards them across the lake, and Sam watches as it pulls up to the back of the boat and Dean tosses out a line. The Adonis in Real Life that hops off onto the boat has Sam tapping Jo’s shoulder. The tall, tanned, gorgeous guy beams a bright smile at Dean and takes off his sunglasses. Even from the front of the boat Sam can see his ice-blue eyes. Jo lifts her head, then waves as the guy waves to her.

“That’s Brad Smith. His family has a cabin on the far side of the lake. We all grew up together in the summers,” Jo tells Sam, who’s watching the newcomer from the corner of his eye as he takes a sip of his beer. Brad wraps Dean in a bear hug, both of them laughing. Sam rolls his eyes and lays his head back down on his towel.

“What’s his story?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

“He goes to UC Berkeley, majoring in Law and Economics. He’s been in love with Dean for as long as I can remember. But, Dean never felt the same way,” she added hastily, realizing her faux paus. “They’re just friends.”

Sam doesn’t respond, just pushes his sunglasses up farther on his nose and takes another swig from his longneck. Jo gets up to greet Brad, leaving Sam alone on the front of the boat.

 

“So that’s him, huh?” Brad asks, lifting his sunglasses to get a better look at Sam. “The guy who finally managed to tie down Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Dean replies fondly, watching Sam’s throat work as he drinks his beer.

“Wow, dude, you are so gone on him.” Brad teases, lightly punching Dean on the shoulder.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, looking at Brad over the rim of his aviators.

‘Oh , Dean is further than gone,” Jo says, sidling over to bump hips with Dean before Brad wraps her in a hug. He plants a kiss on top of her head.

“Well, I’ve got to meet this guy,” Brad says to Dean, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the side of the boat and climbing up to the bow. “Sam, right? I’m Brad,” he says, sticking his hand out.

Sam sits up, pushing his sunglasses up on his head and shaking Brad’s hand.

“Nice to meet  you,” he says politely. “I hear you live on the lake, too?”

“Just in the summers, like these guys. We all used to play together as kids. Are you going to the Gala tomorrow night?” Brad asks, leaning against the railing and crossing his ankles. Sam can’t help but notice the corded muscles that run up and down his legs and arms. He fixes Brad with his megawatt smile and replies,

“Yeah, of course I’ll be there. You?” Sam asks, getting the distinct feeling that he has to put up a defense with this guy.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Brad replies, flashing a grin of his own. “I saw you guys running along the beach this morning. Did Dean take you to our secret spot?”

Sam turns beet red, his smile faltering slightly. “I have no idea what your secret spot is, sorry,” he tells Brad, mentally rolling his eyes as Brad cards a hand through his badly bleached hair.

“Oh, it’s this little clearing with a hot spring, it’s gorgeous and the water is so nice after a good... workout,” Brad says airily, watching Dean as he chats with Jo and Mark at the back of the boat. “I should get going, it was nice meeting you, Sammy.” He leans forward to shake Sam’s hand.

“Only he gets to call me that, Bradley,” Sam says angrily, shaking Brad’s hand with as much force as he can muster, gaining small satisfaction at the wince Brad tries to cover. “See you tomorrow night.”

Brad hurries to the back of the boat, shaking out his hand when he thinks Sam isn’t looking. He throws his arms around Dean again, pulling him in for a hug which Dean returns, making Sam that much angrier. They all laugh for a couple minutes, and Brad hugs Jo before hopping back on his jet ski and zipping away. Sam downs the last of his beer and flops down onto his towel again. Pushing his sunglasses back onto his face, he closes his eyes and sighs.

“You’re blocking my light, Dean,” he says as a shadow covers his face.

“How’d you know it was me?” Dean asks with a laugh, plopping down on the deck next to Sam. Sam doesn’t answer, rolling over onto his stomach and turning his face away from Dean. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Brad seems like a real nice guy.”

“Yeah, he is. He’s a good friend. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Sam replies nonchalantly. Dean reaches over and rubs his hand over Sam’s back.

“Can I lay down with you?” Dean asks quietly, twirling a strand of Sam’s hair in his fingers.

Sam nods, scooting over on the towel. Dean lies next to him on his stomach, and Sam puts his arm over Dean’s back, pulling him close against his side. Dean lays his head on one of his folded elbows, and Sam puts his head on the other. They nearly fall asleep in the warm sunlight before Jo finally calls out that they should head back to the house for dinner.

  
  


“As much as I hate wearing monkey suits, I love you in a tux,” Sam says, leaning against the doorjamb of Dean’s room.

“Don’t objectify me,” Dean replies, winking at Sam in the full length mirror as he tries to adjust his tie, which Missouri had tied for him when she pressed their suits.

Sam stands behind Dean, reaching around him to straighten his tie, and running his nose along the back of Dean’s ear. Dean grabs his wrists, pulling Sam’s arms tighter around him and tilting his head to give Sam access to his neck. They watch each other in the mirror as Sam kisses and nibbles his way down Dean’s neck.

“Ready for this?” Dean asks, rubbing his thumb along the pulse on the inside of Sam’s wrist. Sam nods, sucking Dean’s earlobe between his teeth and biting it lightly. “I’m glad you’re here, Sammy.”

  
  


Dean pulls his car up to the front of the palatial country club, turning off the engine as the doors are opened by valet boys. Dean and Sam slide out of the front, Jo and Mark from the back. Dean tosses his keys to the valet and they all start the climb up the marble steps into the club. All three boys are in tuxes, and Jo is wearing a royal blue ball gown, silk and form-fitting, with a slit up the side and a low v-neck. Their mother’s diamond drop pendant hangs perfectly between her breasts.

The large wooden doors are swung wide and they step into the main ballroom of the club. The marble floor is dotted with white linen tables around a large dance floor, where many people are already dancing. Huge windows look out over a large deck and a gorgeous view of the lake, the moon shining off the rippling surface. Sam takes in the gorgeously dressed women and men, all of them in finery and holding glasses of champagne or liquor. The group makes their way towards the head table, and greet Mr. and Mrs. Winchester briefly before the pair is whisked away to another conversation.

Dean and Mark go to the bar for drinks while Sam and Jo wind their way through the tables towards the deck. Mark reappears a moment later, without Dean. Glancing over Mark’s shoulder, Sam can see that Dean has been stopped by his father and another older gentleman. Dean shakes the older man’s hand, and they both laugh at something Dean’s father says. Sam turns, leaning against the railing and listening to Jo and Mark talk about this couple and that person. After a few minutes, Dean gestures for Sam to come join them, and Sam does, straightening his jacket as he makes his way through the crowd of people.

“Alan Worthington, this is Sam Remington, Dean’s friend. He plays second base at East Texas,” Mr. Winchester introduces, and Sam shakes Mr. Worthington’s hand, ignoring the slight from Dean’s father.

“I hear good things about the team,” Mr. Worthington replies, clapping Sam’s shoulder with his other hand. “We were just talking about Dean coming to play for the Penguins next season.”

Sam glances over at Dean quickly before turning back to Mr. Worthington, a smile plastered on his face.

“That’s great. Dean would be an amazing asset to the team,” Sam tells him, taking the glass of champagne Dean offers him. “He’s a very strong player.” Sam catches Dean’s grin in the corner of his eye.

“We think so, too,” Mr. Worthington replies. “It was nice to meet you, Sam.”

Sam can tell that he’s being dismissed, so he excuses himself and wanders back outside to the patio, which is now empty of guests. He tosses back his champagne, relishing in the delicious slide of bubbles down his throat and reminiscing on the night he and Dean spent in Las Vegas. He hears footsteps approaching and turns to peg Dean with a sly smile. However, he finds Brad standing behind him, holding a glass of whiskey.

“Well look at you, all suited up. This must be like Halloween for you, dressing up and pretending you’re something you’re not.”

“What the fuck is your problem, Brad?”

“You’re my problem, Sammy. Who do you think you are, coming here and acting like you belong in Dean’s life. I know all about you, Sam Remington, the charity case on the baseball team. Dean’s charity case, redneck boyfriend from Kansas. You’re never going to fit in here. You’re never going to fit into Dean’s life. He’s going places, he’ll be CEO of Winchester Repeating Arms, going to events like this all over the world. He doesn’t need some second class citizen dragging him down. He needs to be with someone who belongs in this world. Someone his parents will acknowledge.”

“Oh, someone like you? A pretentious douchebag living off his trust fund?” Sam replies, standing chest to chest with Brad and looking down at him. Brad doesn’t seem to be bothered by the height difference as he jabs his finger into Sam’s chest.

“You better step off while you still can. Go back to Daddy’s farm in Kansas, farm boy. Go back where you belong.” Suddenly Dean is standing in front of Sam, his arm out to hold Sam back.

“What the hell did you just say to him?” Dean asks, pushing Brad away gently with a hand on his chest.

“Nothing at all, Dean. Sammy and I were just having a little chat, getting to know each other,” Brad replies with a shrug, winking at Sam over Dean’s shoulder. Sam lunges forward, swinging his fist back, but Dean beats him to the punch. Literally, Dean cocks back and connects a right hook to Brad’s jaw. Brad staggers back a step, wiping at his split lip with the back of his hand and smirking.

“I think it’s time you leave, Brad,” Dean says, his calm voice betrayed by the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the flush of heat on his face.

“Catch ya later, Kansas,” Brad says before he saunters off, laughing to himself. Dean whirls around, looking for Sam, who’s already halfway to the sliding glass doors. Dean catches up to him, grabbing his arm to spin him around. His face is flushed with contained anger, and he refuses to meet Dean’s eye.

“Sammy, what the hell just happened?”

Sam backs away a couple steps, putting his hands up.

“I just need some air, Dean. Nothing happened. Just,” Sam gives up, turning to leave.

“What are you talking about, need some air, we’re outside!” Dean replies, reaching out to grab Sam’s arm and spinning him around again. Sam shakes his hand off, stepping back again.

“I can’t be here right now. I have to go. Stop,” he nearly shouts as Dean grabs his arm again. “Let go. Just give me some fucking space, Dean.”

Dean drops his hand, his mouth popping open in surprise.

“Sammy, wait, don’t go. Just talk to me,” he pleads as Sam turns and walks away. But Sam ignores him, walking through the open doors and winding his way through the crowd, stopping only to set down his empty champagne flute as he leaves.

 

Dean forces himself to calm down, frantically dialing and redialing Sam’s cell phone. He stands in the guest bedroom, looking around for any hint that Sam is still here. His suitcase is gone, as is any trace that he was ever here.

“Come on, Sam, pick up!” he shouts into his phone, but is only greeted with Sam’s cheery voicemail recording. “Shit!” he screams throwing his phone onto the bed. He yanks his tie off and throws it onto the bed as well. Jo knocks on the door. “What?!”

“Woah, it’s just me. What’s going on? Where’s Sam?”

“I don’t fucking know. He got into a fight with Brad and then he just left. Now his bag is gone and he’s not picking up his cell phone,” Dean tells her, sinking onto the edge of the bed and putting his face in his hands. He feels the bed dip as Jo sits down with him. She rubs his back gently.

“Maybe he went to a hotel?” she suggests softly, trying to calm Dean down. “Did you talk to Missouri? Maybe she knows something.”

Dean snaps his head up, then jumps up and runs off to find Missouri in the kitchen.

“Oh, honey,” she says, coming over to wrap Dean in a hug as she sees his hopeless face. “It’s gonna be alright honey, he’s just upset. Don’t you worry.”

“Do you know where he went?” Dean asks, stepping back and rubbing his hand over his face. “Maybe I can catch up to him.”

“He took a cab to the airport, said he was going back to Texas. If you hurry you might make it.”

 

By the time Dean makes it to the airport, the woman at the ticket counter tells him the last flight to Texas for the night took off twenty minutes ago. Dean slams his hand down on the counter before racing back out to his car, which he left idling in the drop-off zone. He slides in behind the wheel and guns it, peeling out of the parking lot and settling in for a long, lonely drive back to Texas.

  
  


Six hours later, Dean pounds on the door to Sam’s apartment. Garth swings the door open, and pegs Dean with a pitying look.

“I don’t think now’s a good time, Dean,” he says quietly, putting out his hand to stop Dean as he tries to walk around him.

“Garth, come on man, I gotta see him,” Dean pleads, looking around Garth to try and see into the apartment. “Please. I have to talk to him.”

“Well maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you right now, Dean. It’s six a.m.,” Garth replies, his voice loud enough now to echo down the empty hall behind Dean. The words reverberating off the walls hit the back of Dean’s head like individual blows. He coughs, trying to clear the words choking in his throat, and blinks against the tears in his eyes.

“Let him in,” Sam calls from his bedroom. Garth steps back and lets Dean pass. He nearly runs down the hallway, side stepping Adam as he comes out of Sam’s room.

“Pretentious dick,” he hears Adam mutter under his breath, but he ignores the comment. He stops in the doorway of Sam’s room. Sam is sitting on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. All of the anger at Sam for leaving just flies out the window when Dean sees him like that.

“Sammy, what the hell? Why did you just leave like that?” Dean asks, stepping forward and reaching out to wrap his arms around Sam, but he pauses, unsure if Sam wants to be touched. Especially by him. “I was freaking out, you didn’t leave a note or anything. I had no idea where you went.”

Sam finally looks up at him, and his eyes are rimmed red.

“Sammy,” Dean whispers, managing to get the lead out of his shoes and cross over to sit next to Sam. He doesn’t wrap his arms around Sam, though he craves the contact. “Come on, you don’t really believe what that asshole said, do you?” He reaches over to take Sam’s hand, surprised when Sam takes his hand between both of his.

“He’s right, you know,” Sam says quietly, looking down at their joined hands.

“What are you saying? That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“It’s not though, Dean. I don’t fit in there, I don’t go to fancy events and wear tuxes and drink champagne. My parents don’t own a lake house, my dad doesn’t run a Fortune 500 company. He works in a garage. My mom runs a bakery. I don’t belong in a fancy country club, I don’t fit into your life Dean,” Sam stammers out, the last of it landing on Dean like an anvil. Sam throws his hand away and stands, turning to face him. He runs both hands through his hair and sighs. “It’s not like we didn’t see this coming. Who was I kidding, thinking that a guy like you would want to be with a guy like me?”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Dean shouts, standing as well, but Sam ignores him.

“This was never going to work! You’re going off to Pittsburgh, you’ve got the Winchester Family Legacy to uphold. Obviously that’s more important than me. Why would I ever think otherwise?” Sam yells at him. He turns away as Dean shouts.

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Dean is nearly screaming. He reaches out and grabs Sam’s arm, yanking hard to spin him around. “DON’T YOU DARE THINK THAT THERE IS ANYTHING, ANYTHING THAT I WOULD PUT IN FRONT OF YOU!”

Sam shoves his arm away and starts to turn but Dean steps forward, chest to chest, and wraps both hands around the back of Sam’s neck, using his thumbs under Sam’s jaw to make Sam look at him. He tolds tight as Sam tries to turn his head away.

“It’s true, Dean! I don’t belong! I’m never going to belong! You’re a trust fund kid, raised on a silver spoon! You have fucking staff at your fucking lake house!” Sam yells, and Dean drops his hands, backing away in shock. “I’m a fucking second class citizen, just like Brad said. I’m never going to be good enough, Dean. I can’t help where I came from! I’m never going to be good enough to be with someone like you!”

“Goddamnit, Sammy. I fucking love you. Why can’t you see that? I don’t give a shit about Pittsburgh, or my dad’s company,” he adds, ducking his head to try to meet Sam’s eyes. “It’s not about money or class. It’s never been about that. I can’t believe you’re making this about money right now!”

“What else would it be about?” Sam shouts at him, shoving him away. “You have to go live the life that mommy and daddy set up for you. Go pro, take over daddy’s company, marry a rich white guy with a pedigree. Two-point-five kids and a mansion in the suburbs, and your kids can go grow up at the lake house with Brad’s kids and you’ll all be perfect at your stupid fucking country club, eating fucking pie with your silver spoons!”

“Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you for saying that. Don’t you know me at all? Shit! That’s not who I am! What the fuck!”

“You know what, I think you need to leave,” Sam says, glaring at Dean.

“You want me to leave? Fine. I’ll fucking go. Before I do I should tell you, not that you give a shit, but I turned down Pittsburgh. For you. Asshole.” Dean storms out of the room, almost making it to the door before he hears Sam come racing after him.

“You what? Why?”

“I turned it down! Why do you think? Because of you! Because I want to be with you. Fuck! You are so obtuse sometimes. Don’t you get it? I want to be with you. I don’t care about anything else. That’s what I want. We could live in some shack in the middle of nowhere, and I still wouldn’t care. Goddamnit. You are such an asshole. I know that my parents are pretentious, stereotypical, douchebags. But how could you think that I was anything like them?” Dean sighs, then turns and opens the door.

“Wait, Dean! Wait!” Sam yells, chasing after Dean and finally catching up to him halfway down the steps. Dean stops on the landing between floors and looks up at him. Sam is stopped short by the pain in Dean’s eyes.

“You really turned down Pittsburgh?” Sam asks quietly.

“Of course I did. You’re going to Stanford. How am I going to live in Pennsylvania when my boyfriend lives in California?”

“But you’ve always wanted to play for them.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Dean rubs a hand over his face. “Look, I drove all night, chasing after you. I’m exhausted. I’m going home.” He starts down the steps again, and Sam follows, stopping on the landing.

“Dean, shit. Stop. Hold on a minute. Can you just,” Sam drags a hand through his hair. “Just come back upstairs. Please. We can talk about this. Look, I’m sorry I left. I was freaking out, and I just needed to breathe. Don’t go, please. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Dean’s resolve breaks at the pleading in Sam’s voice, and he climbs back up the few steps to the landing.

“Sammy, I love you, and I want to be with you. And I’d follow you wherever you went. But you left. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“And I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I saw red, and I panicked. I don’t know if you can ever forgive me for that. But I really am sorry. I know that’s not you. And I know that you can’t help where you come from any more than I can.” Sam reaches out tentatively, and when Dean doesn’t step back or shrug him off, Sam wraps one hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him close. Tilting Dean’s chin up with his other hand, he kisses him softly. “I love you. You know that I love you. I’m sorry that I’m such a moron. I promise I won’t ever run away like that again.” He kisses Dean a little harder this time. “Now will you please come back upstairs? Come to bed with me.”

Dean looks up and meets Sam’s eyes. He can see how sorry Sam is, how guilty he feels. He nods, the corner of his mouth turning up. Sam grins at him.

Dean presses a kiss into each deep dimple.

  
  
  


Sam wakes up before Dean the next morning. The sun is streaming through the window in that perfect, look-like-a-movie way, the light illuminating Dean’s face. Leaning in close, Sam can count each individual freckle in the spatter over Dean’s cheekbone. His eyelashes flutter as he dreams in his sleep.

Sam traces every inch of Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers, memorizing the shape of his nose, the way the stubble tickles his fingers. The curve of his upper lip, the pout of his lower. The way his jaw clenches and relaxes, the shape of his ear.

With the gentlest touches, Sam explores Dean’s neck, whispering over the contours of his throat and the dip where his collar bones meet.  Down his chest, Sam trails his fingers along the curves of Dean’s tattoo, following the octopus tentacles as they twirl around Dean’s nipple. Sam counts his way down Dean’s ribs, then traces a circle around Dean’s bellybutton. Just as he reaches the edge of the blanket thats draped across Dean’s hip, he’s startled from his exploration.

“Whatcha doin’?” Dean asks, and Sam looks up to see  that Dean had been awake, laying perfectly still and watching Sam’s fingers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Sam whispers, his fingers still tracing loops and whorls on Dean’s stomach. “Go back to sleep, it’s only been a few hours.”

Dean grumbles and rolls over onto his side, wiggling his arm underneath Sam and wrapping the other around Sam’s stomach. He pulls Sam in tight to his chest and snuggles his head into the crook of Sam’s neck, rubbing his cheek against Sam’s shoulder.

“Mmm-awake now,” he mumbles, wrapping both of his legs around one of Sam’s. He reminds Sam of the way a koala bear clings to a tree. Dean squeezes him and groans, making Sam laugh.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” Sam asks, rubbing his free hand up and down Dean’s side. His other hand was pinned between their stomachs after Dean wrapped around him.

“Not that awake,” Dean replied, snuggling even closer, though Sam didn’t see how that was possible. Every inch of Dean was wrapped around him.

“Dean, I want to talk about it. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. And I shouldn’t have let what Brad said get to me. I know that’s not you. I’m so sorry that I doubted you, doubted us,” Sam says against the top of Dean’s head. Dean sighs, then presses a trail of kisses along his collarbone.

“I know Sammy,” he says, in the hollow of Sam’s throat. “It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll never leave like that again, I was freaking out.” He rubs his nose back and forth along the bottom of Sam’s jaw. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me. I promise,” Sam tells him, reaching up to lift Dean’s chin. He kisses Dean softly, then whispers against his lips, “you’re stuck with me.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Dean’s phone blares Renegade from the nightstand and he rolls over to check it. Squinting at the bright screen in the darkness of his room, he reads the caller ID.

“Shit, it’s my dad,” he tells Sam as he clambers out from under the covers and ducks out of the room. He slides the answer arrow and puts the phone to his ear.

“Dad? It’s 5 a.m. What’s up?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he tiptoes through the apartment and opens the sliding glass door to the balcony. The hot, humid air slams into him as he steps outside and he feels as though he’s instantly sweating.

Are you not awake? Don’t you have exams to be studying for or classes to be at? I’m paying for you to go to college not go out all night and sleep all day, his dad replies on the other end of the line.

“Woah, Dad, it’s way too early for a lecture. I was at practice all night and my class isn’t until 9. What are you calling so early for?”

I just got an email from Alan saying that you turned him down at the Gala last weekend. What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you turn down playing for Pittsburgh? Who the hell do you think you are? I didn’t raise you like this - to be so ungrateful. All the hockey camps and private coaching, all for nothing! Mr. Winchester shouts into the phone. Dean holds it away from his ear, leaning on his elbows against the railing and watching traffic drift past. You’re throwing your life away! And for what? Some stupid college fling! And don’t even get me started on you bringing your boyfriend and flaunting him around in front of all your mother’s friends! Are you even listening to me?! Do you really think that boy is worth throwing your life away?

“You know what Dad? Fuck you. No, I’m not going to listen to this!” Dean straightens up, shouting over his father. “I’ve had enough of your mightier-than-thou bullshit. First of all, you need to get over this whole gay thing. I’m gay. I’m always going to be gay. Second, that boy you think isn’t worth it, is ten times the man either one of us will ever be. Look, I’m sorry that you don’t get to live vicariously through me while I’m playing hockey for Pittsburgh, but that’s your dream Dad, not mine. I’m going to California with Sam. Maybe I’ll play hockey there, maybe I won’t. But I’m going. I love him, Dad. I don’t need your money, and I certainly don’t need your blessing.”

Dean furiously jabs the end call button, wishing he still had a flip phone he could snap shut. He rubs his hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to calm himself. His phone starts ringing in his hand and he seriously considers chucking it over the balcony, but settles for turning it off completely. He tosses it on the couch as he passes through the apartment and heads back to his room. Dean tries to Matrix his way back under the covers so as to not wake Sam, but Sam pops one eye open as Dean slides in.

“Everything okay?” he asks sleepily, rolling towards Dean. Laying his head on his pillow, Dean rolls onto his side and pulls Sam’s arm across him. Sam snuggles in close, wrapping his body around Dean’s and nuzzling the back of Dean’s neck with his nose.

“Everything’s perfect.”

  
  
  


Sam and Dean lay on the couch that night, watching Game of Thrones, when his phone rings again.

“Maybe you should just answer it? This is what, the sixth time he’s called today?” Sam says, pausing the DVR and looking over at Dean.

“Nah, he can just leave another angry voicemail,” Dean replies, reaching for his phone to mute the ringer. “Oh, shit it’s Coach.”

“Hey Coach, what’s up?” Dean answers, holding up one finger to Sam, who nods. “Yeah, Coach, I’ll hold,” Dean says after a moment. “I hate when he does this, he doesn’t even have hold music,” Dean tells Sam, holding the phone away from his mouth.

Dean suddenly stands and starts pacing the room as Coach comes back on the line. He walks back and forth between the coffee table and Sam’s knees. On Dean’s third circle around the coffee table, Sam reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling him in between his knees. He wraps his arms around Dean’s thighs and squeezes him. Leaning his forehead against Dean’s stomach, he waits patiently while Dean listens to whatever Coach is saying on the other end. Dean cards his fingers through Sam’s hair as he talks.

“Wow, really? All three of them? So when do I have to decide by? … Okay, yeah I can do that… Before practice works, four-thirty?... Awesome, thanks Coach. I’ll see you tomorrow… Okay, bye.” Dean tosses his phone on the couch next to Sam, but doesn’t move, his hand still running through Sam’s hair.

“What was that about?” Sam asks, tickling Dean’s stomach as he speaks against it.

“Uh, I got offers,” Dean replies, and Sam tilts his head back to look up at him. “Three of them.”

“Wow, Dean, congratulations! That’s great! Which teams?”

“Toronto, Boston, and… San Jose,” Dean tells him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wait, San Jose, that’s right by Stanford!”

Dean doesn’t say anything, just takes Sam’s face between his hands and bends down to kiss him. He leans his forehead against Sam’s as they break away. Sam’s sunflower eyes meet his emerald ones and he smiles.

  
  


The next afternoon, Dean and Coach Singer go over the offers from all three NHL teams, plus the two other offers that came in that morning, from Detroit and Vancouver. Dean doesn’t hesitate as he tells Coach to accept the offer from San Jose, even though it pays slightly less than both Toronto and Boston.

With his career in motion, Dean leaves Coach’s office feeling like things are really going to work out in California. He decides on a whim to call his father and tell him about his decision.

Who did you get offers from? his father asks, without a ‘hello’ or ‘congratulations’, not even a ‘sorry I was such an asshole the last time we talked’.

“Toronto, Vancouver, Boston, San Jose, and Detroit,” Dean replies, cursing himself for calling his Dad instead of just sending a text message or email.

So obviously Toronto would be the best choice of those teams. But let me guess, you went with San Jose?

“Sure did.”

Your Mother and I do not support this decision. I will not support you giving up the career of a lifetime and gallivanting around California with… that boy.

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t need your support. It’s been great chatting with you, Dad. Give my love to Mom.” Once again Dean hangs up on his father, then switches his phone to vibrate and tosses it on the passenger seat of his car. The smile plastered on his face never wavers as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads for Sam’s apartment.

  
  


When he walks into Sam’s apartment, he nearly trips over Garth, who is lying on the living room floor, surrounded by binders and papers, a textbook over his face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Garth?” Dean asks, peering down at the cover of the Advanced Anatomy and Physiology textbook Garth is hiding underneath.

“Trying to decide if I want to drop out and move to Tibet. You?” Garth answers from between the pages.

“Study session with Sam. Take a break, man,” Dean tells Garth, concerned over the guy’s mental health as Garth groans.

“No time. This final is in-” Garth pauses, lifting the book from his head with one hand to look at his watch on the other wrist. “-fourteen hours. And since I’ve had a serious case of senioritis this entire semester, I’ve got about 90% of this book to get through before then.”

“Shit. I guess I’ll leave you to it. Thank God it’s already Thursday though, right?” Dean laughs as Garth raises his hand in a thumbs up before it flops back down the carpet beside him. He walks down the hall to Sam’s room. Pushing open the door, he sees Sam sitting at his desk, quietly banging his forehead against a stack of case reviews. “You too, huh?”

Sam wearily lifts his head and looks at Dean, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“Garth. He’s currently laid out on the living room floor, trying to smother himself with his A&P textbook,” Dean tells him with a laugh. He drops his backpack on the bed, then flops down beside it. “How many more case studies do you have to get through?”

“Twelve. Well, once I finish this one. What about you? You just have your ISB exam tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, last one. Should be decently easy, since I actually like that class. Do you have any exams tomorrow? Or just that meeting with the Dean?”

“Just have to turn in these case reviews and the meeting. Can you believe it’s almost over?” Sam asks, turning in his swivel chair to face Dean.

“It seems like just yesterday I was graduating from High School. I’ve been a student for 16 years. It’s gonna be weird to not have classes anymore. I might actually miss it,” Dean admits, lifting Sam’s feet onto his lap and rubbing them. Sam sighs, his head falling back on his shoulders. “You need a break,” Dean adds as he watches Sam visibly relax. After a moment, Sam looks up, and Dean quirks his eyebrows at him. Pulling his feet from Dean’s lap, Sam practically leaps on him, and they crash back onto the bed.

“Wait, I got you something,” Dean says, reaching out from underneath Sam and groping around on the bed for the package that had fallen out of his pocket.

“For what?” Sam asks, not stopping the barrage of kisses and bites down the side of Dean’s neck.

“For getting into Stanford, of course,” Dean replies, his hand finally making contact with the small, flat box. “It’s nothing major. Just a little something.”

“I got you something, too. For Graduation, and getting San Jose. I was going to wait until graduation day, but I guess I can give it to you now.” Sam rolls off of Dean and leans over to grab a long, thin box from his nightstand.

“Okay, you first,” Dean says, and Sam pops open the lid of his box.

“Wow, Dean, I love it!” Sam exclaims, holding up the bracelet Dean had gotten him. It was black, braided leather, and came together at a black titanium clasp. “Seriously, babe, thank you. It’s gorgeous.” Dean helps him to put it on his wrist before he opens his own gift.

“This is awesome!” Dean pulls the necklace from the box. A black leather cord is tied to a black titanium curved spearhead. It’s polished to shine, and smooth as glass under Dean’s fingertips.

“I saw it and I thought it was something you would like,” Sam tells him, a blush creeping up his face.

“Sammy, I love it. Thank you.” Sam takes the necklace from him and unclasps it, lowering it around Dean’s neck. Dean looks down at it, rubbing it between his fingers.

“I think it suits you,” Sam tells him, and Dean smiles up at him. “Now, back to that study break…”

  
  


“It’s finally here!” Meg shouts as she runs up to hug Dean and then Sam, Cas trailing along behind her with a big grin on his face. “We’re finally done! Well, except for you, Sam. Another three years in law school. I don’t think I could do it!”

Sam laughs, shrugging. He adjusts his mortar board on his head, curls poking out on all sides. Dean spins his around on his finger like a basketball as they all look around for their families. Cas’s parents come over and Dean introduces Sam. As Meg, Cas, and his parents wander off, Sam spots his parents. They come rushing over and hugs are exchanged, Dean shaking John’s hand after Mary hugs him.

“Are your parents here, Dean?” Mary asks, looking up at him.

“I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t seen them yet,” Dean trails off, glancing around at the crowd which is slowly starting to thin as everyone heads into the stadium. Just then he spots Jo dodging her way through the crowd towards them. “Oh, here’s my sister,” Dean tells Mary and John as Jo joins them. “Mr. and Mrs. Remington, this is my sister, Joanna. Jo, these are Sam’s parents, John and Mary Remington.”

Jo shakes hands with both Mary and John, and pleasantries are exchanged.

“Uh, Jo, can I talk to you? Excuse us for a moment,” Dean tells Sam and his parents before towing Jo away by her upper arm. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

“Right, umm, Dad is in Germany. Mom went with him. I guess there was some sort of crisis to do with a hammer strut? I don’t know. Honestly, I think Dad is still angry about the California thing. And you know Mom just goes along with whatever Dad says.”

“Wow. I get that he’s pissed that I’m going to the Capitol of Gay with my homosexual lover and all that,” Dean mocks, a scowl marring his face, “but to skip my graduation? That’s pretty fucking low. Even for him.”

“Yeah, it absolutely is. But don’t let it ruin your big day, okay?” Jo tells him, rubbing his arm and trying to comfort him. “I’m really proud of you, Dean. And you know Mom and Dad are too. They just have a funny way of showing it.”

Jo presses up on her tiptoes to kiss Dean’s cheek, and he gives her half a smile. Although he’s still upset with his father and how he’s behaved over the last two weeks, he still expected his parents to be at his graduation. Rubbing the back of his neck, he wraps his other arm around Jo’s shoulder and they follow Sam and his parents towards the stadium. After Mary, John, and Jo go to find seats, Sam reaches out to take Dean’s hand and together they walk under the class banner and onto the field to take their seats for graduation.

 

 

 


	15. Epilogue

3 Months Later

“Are you sure this is the right box?” Dean hollers from the kitchen. He’s surrounded on all sides by cardboard boxes, and every single one of them is labelled ‘kitchen’. “All these boxes look the same, babe.”

“Oh, I don’t know where they are then. Let’s just eat out of the tins,” Sam replies from the front room. Or, as he likes to call it, the Den. Dean weaves his way through the maze of boxes and steps through the french doors into the den. Sam is sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall, with a brown paper bag in front of him. Dean inhales deep the smells of cheap delivery Chinese food. He plops down next to Sam.

Sam opens the bag and passes Dean a container of spicy chicken, pulling out another of fried rice, a bag of egg rolls, and a container of noodles with vegetables for himself. He hands Dean a pair of chopsticks and they both dive in. Minutes pass in silence as they both scarf down their food, exhausted from a long day of packing, moving, and lifting.

They had found the house surprisingly fast, and Sam had instantly fallen in love with it. A one story bungalow set in a row of houses, it was the perfect size for them. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garage, and a fenced in backyard, it had everything they needed, including an updated kitchen for Dean to cook in. As soon as they had left the Open House, Dean had called the agent and put in an offer.

Dean looks over at Sam, laughing as he tries unsuccessfully to keep hold of a carrot with his chopsticks. Sam gives him a classic bitchface before turning back to the pesky vegetables. Looking around at all the boxes, Dean doesn’t feel overwhelmed or unsure. He knows this is exactly where he is supposed to be; right next to Sam.

 

* * *

 

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I would like to say a huge thank you to my betas [Sammy](http://jaynescob.tumblr.com) and [Eza](http://moosetasticsam.tumblr.com). This fic wouldn't be more than a scribbled idea in the back of my mind if it wasn't for you both. <3
> 
> Another major thank you to Eza for making the gorgeous banner. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this fic, either on here or on tumblr. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your kind words, and constructive criticisms. I love you all. 
> 
> Please stay posted for Part 2! :)


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